


Like a Bullet in the Dark

by fookinloosah



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bad Dirty Talk, Fantasy, Fantasy Violence, Fetus Harry, Fetus Louis, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Masturbation, Star-crossed, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinloosah/pseuds/fookinloosah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where seventeen-year-old Harry and nineteen-year-old Louis live on opposite sides of a mysterious fence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Bullet in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jojobeen12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojobeen12/gifts).



> Jojobeen12's prompt was simply: “‘In the middle of the night when the wolves come out, headed straight for your heart like a bullet in the dark...’ open to interpretation ;)” Judging by the winky face, you may have been vouching for some hot werewolf smut, but I ran away with the “interpretation” part instead...I hope you enjoy my twisted take!
> 
> Thank you so much to my betas [ Brittany ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/haloeverlasting/pseuds/haloeverlasting) and [ Ari ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesitstyles/pseuds/Yesitstyles) ! You gave so much to this fic in such a busy time and I am eternally grateful.

Harry was no stranger to mischief, but he was also one of those very lucky, very charming kids who seemed to get away with it every time. Whenever a neighbour or an Inspector was in to visit, Harry would hear the same lines coming from the living room: “Harry’s a Good Kid. He’s never done anyone any harm.”

He’d heard it so often that Good Kid had earned its capital letters.

He’d never really had anyone to compare his status against. He’d assumed that everyone else was, all in all, a Good Kid. Johnny and Alice were Good Kids, Gemma was a Good Kid…

But, on a warm school day in late spring, when he was eleven years old, he found out what a Bad Kid was.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, doing his homework, when his mother came home, minutes before sunset, sighing away a long day’s work.

Harry looked up with a smile. “Alright, mum?”

Anne set her groceries down on the table in front of him. Harry noticed her hands shaking. She fixed him with narrowed eyes. “Do you know Lester Elwood? Is he at your school?”

Harry had heard the name. He recalled a short kid, curly blonde hair. He nodded.

“He’s gone missing,” Anne said stiffly, throwing a pot on the stove. “They couldn’t find him this morning.”

Harry stared up at her in shock. She looked back at him from over her shoulder, asking many a question with her solemn eyes. Harry found nothing to say, with his eyes or otherwise. Anne eventually nodded, turning back to the stove.

Two and two made four in Harry’s mind quite easily — anyone who went missing and was not back in their bed by morning had snuck out past curfew.

No one ever did that.

In mumly conversation, Harry soon realized, curfew obedience became cited as the primary habit of a Good Kid. “He’s never tried to sneak out!” was a line she often used to impress other mums. Harry would nod along, happy to make his mother proud, but secretly, he couldn’t help but question it all.

The Beasts — that was the playground name for whatever dangers had driven their town to impose a curfew, long before Harry had been born. No one truly knew what they were, but there had been plenty of imaginings, rumours, “sightings.”

Whisperings about Lester’s disappearance flooded the halls for the last few weeks of school before summer hols. Harry found thoughts of The Beasts looming over him as he went about his days, sparking his curiosity just as much as they scared him. His theories as to what they could be changed almost weekly, but were founded on very little empirical evidence. He’d always been to afraid to look out his windows at night. The fairy tale bedtime stories from when he was smaller had stuck with him, but every day it grew more and more improbable that The Beasts were witches in gingerbread houses, or trolls, or his favourite guess — werewolves.

Before school was out, he’d developed a plan.

Liam Payne’s parents were going away for a few weeks, and Anne had invited Liam to stay over and share Harry’s room. Harry wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on his floor in a sleeping bag for half a month. Nor was he looking forward to having to wear actual pyjamas to bed, as his mum had requested he be “decent” around their guest. But Liam was smart, kind, and very easy to rope into a bit of mischief.

At lunchtime on one of their last school days, he pulled Liam aside and said, “When you come over next week — bring your binoculars, yeah?” Liam liked birdwatching (Niall liked to call him the “Bird Nerd,” which always made Liam get rather defensive, bless him), so he was well equipped.

Liam frowned. “What are you on about?”

“We’re going to find out what The Beasts are,” said Harry plainly, chewing on his juice box straw.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Haz, we’re not playing pretend games…”

“It’s not pretend! The Beasts could be anything! Ghosts, werewolves, ghouls, some sort of animal, maybe, intelligent machines…or absolutely nothing —”

Liam began to anxiously pack up his lunch. “It could be something invisible, y’know...”

“Like what?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Look, Liam, if we show our parents the facts, they might give us the answers.”

“What do they know?” Liam shook his head. “Lester, Harry! They still haven’t found Lester. Not even his body.”

That silenced Harry for a moment. But he had to try again.

“Research. You like research. And you like adventures and experiments, too. We’ll just stay up all night and spy out my window and see if anything happens.”

Liam fixed him with a look of vexation and proceeded out of the cafeteria.

But Liam did bring his binoculars that first night. Niall came over for pizza, too, and Anne tried to get them to watch a movie she’d rented, but they had better plans.

As soon as night fell and curfew struck, and Niall had no choice but to stay over, they scrambled up to Harry’s room. The three boys huddled around the window, looking out into the yard. Beyond the short garden wall, fields rolled away into the distance.

The moon was bright that night, giving them a wonderfully clear view. After three hours of keeping watch, yawning, packed in like sardines and trading the binoculars, nothing had really moved out there. Harry periodically put his camera on record, and zoomed in on the grass below, trusting his gut to tell him when to turn it on and off, in order to maybe catch something important, to no avail. Around the time the battery died, Niall fell asleep on Harry’s shoulder. Liam curled up into Harry’s bed an hour later. Only Harry stayed there, vigilant, until sunrise.

As the first beams of sunshine licked his stubborn face, Harry told himself not to give up hope. Beasts were tricky. They would reveal themselves when the right time came.

The next few nights, Harry and Liam tried again. Liam fell asleep earlier and earlier each time, even though he’d bought them a whole case of energy drinks under Anne’s nose. And each time, Harry amused himself by taking the dumbest notes, whilst nothing moved under the moon.

When he was seventeen and his mother was finally making him clean his room, he rediscovered the long-lost notepad of his childhood.

 

_Friday, June 28. Super-Spy Notes:_

_21:17: heard a bark. probably naybors dog, but maybe a werewolf. do they bark?_

_22:52: squirral_

_23:11: liam snores_

_23:45: liam snores A LOT_

_24:16: i hate sceince_

_1:52: bird. didn’t see what kind cuz its dark_

 

He laughed. He took a picture and texted it to Liam, begrudgingly remembering that Liam wouldn’t be around to answer for a few weeks, as he was off with his scout group on some dumb camping trip.

He flopped back down against his bed and groaned. Summer this year was really boring. No one was ever around to have adventures with, and when they were, Harry was stuck inside cleaning, or off babysitting. He was proud of how good he was with children, but apparently it was a mixed blessing. Handling three young children at once for many long, hot days on end made him constantly question why any parent had ever made the decision to procreate or adopt in the first place. Thinking back to a time when there had been some sense of excitement in his life — some sense of possibility in a stupid little research project, and a big quest for the truth — was mostly just a bummer.

No one really talked about The Beasts anymore. They stuck to their curfew, no one else disappeared, and life progressed as normal. Harry’s curiosity about them had been reduced to embarrassing stories his mum would tell other mums, about how resolute he’d been in his mission to find them. To little drawings and bits of handwriting from long ago.

But, with the rediscovered notebook watching him from its spot on the windowsill, it was as if Harry’s mind was beginning to kick some of the dirt off of his curiosity’s coffin. With a day to himself, the unsolved mystery returned to haunt the back of his mind.

And so that night, Harry found himself resuming his experiment. He stayed up with the binoculars that Liam had given him for his birthday all those years ago, drinking Red Bull and coffee as if he was on a study bender. Which, sort of, he was. The most boring study bender in the history of ever.

The children he babysat had to drag his droopy arse around the park all of that next day.

But, the next night, curled up on top of his covers and perusing his phone, boredom returned ever so easily. All of the best websites had been blocked by the Censorship Board in recent months, and Nick hadn’t sent him a good, unblocked porn link in far too long. He found himself back at the window. The moon was barely a wisp in the clear, pitch black sky. He tugged his pillows down from his bed, got comfy, and sat and waited again.

The unchanging skyscape and the feeling of peace that overtook him seemed to blur together as he slowly succumbed to sleep, and that mish-mash of feeling and colour was all he could really remember come morning.

He was awakened by a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he groaned, and his mum opened it.

“Reliving your childhood, I see?” she said. Through his squinty eyes, Harry thought he could see a half-smirk on her face.

“Something like that,” he admitted, wincing and holding his back as he tried to sit up.

“I figured I’d invite Marie over for dinner, once you’re done babysitting for her today. You can bring the kids home straight from the park. How does that sound?”

“If you’re happy with pasta without sauce and salad without dressing for dinner,” Harry smiled groggily. “The children are not accustomed to our refined tastes.”

“I’ll make sure to pick up some caviar and duck liver paté, then,” Anne winked. “Have a good day, love.”

“Ta ta, muh-maw,” said Harry in his poshest accent.

The dinner went well. Harry didn’t mind chasing the three munchkins around his kitchen table while helping his mum cook, and the baby’s face covered in pasta sauce made for some classic photos. After they’d cleaned up a little, and the kids had run off in search of poor, elusive Dusty, Harry sat by the kitchen table, engaging Nick in a heated text debate about the scarcity of good, unblocked porn, when Anne and Marie’s topic of conversation in the next room changed and caught his attention.

“Harry’s always been a Good Kid,” Anne said. “There’s been some foolishness over the years, but we’ve been fine, thank God.”

“He’s a darling, Anne. I’m so glad to have him to watch the kids. He’s been very good at setting boundaries for them without being awful about it, you know? And I’m so thankful — I live in dread of any of them ever going out after curfew…”

“We all do.”

“Molly asked what The Beasts were for the first time the other day, and I was in such shock, I had no idea what to tell her…”

“We’ve all been there. They’re so curious at this stage, it’s hard to lay that question to rest.”

“Oh, you’re telling me! I just had to tell her that bad things happen to Bad Kids who go out there, and after a long time of just repeating that, she eventually shut up.”

Harry went back to texting, but he’d lost focus. Nick clued in pretty quickly.

_H ?? U alright mate lol_

Harry took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and replied, _for now._

Nick wasn’t buying it. _U poetic fuck, whats goin on? Really_

Harry was right about to explain the whole thing, but there was a new dimension to the picture forming in his mind now — something he couldn’t tell a soul. He reassured Nick that he was fine. Really.

A half-hour later, Anne checked her phone. “Just got Marie’s text that they’re home safe, and before curfew. Good.” She shot Harry a tired smile. “I can see how those little rascals give you a run for your money, eh?” She playfully jostled his shoulder.

Still seated at the kitchen table, Harry shrugged. “They’re good kids. They look out for each other.”

Anne hummed in agreement, sipping her herbal tea before stifling a yawn. “I was going to watch telly before bed, but now I’m just knackered. I’m tucking in early. You good to turn the lights out?”

Looking back down at his phone, Harry said in a small voice, “But what if the _Beasties_ get me?”

Anne chuckled, walking over to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Nothing my big boy can’t handle.”

He was starting to doubt that, though he took it as a vote of confidence.

Not that she would have had any confidence in him, if she’d known what was to come next.

She made her way upstairs. Harry heard Gemma call a “Goodnight!” from her room, and called one back.

An hour of emoji wars with Nick later, Harry put down his phone, slipped on a hoodie and his shoes, and winced at the click of the back door’s lock — so harsh it was sickening, almost like it was a manifestation of his guilt. He slid it open, and was greeted with cool night air, and a chorus of crickets.

He quickly, quietly shut the door, tiptoed through the back lawn, and swung his shaking legs over the ineffectual garden wall. The moon was just as bright as it had been the first night he’d looked out over those fields, and Harry tried hard not to think of how sure he’d been that The Beasts could only be ravenous werewolves.

He’d walked the fields by day, of course — he’d had birthday parties, footie matches, and capture the flag tournaments in and around them — but they were endlessly more entrancing at night. The empty space around him felt so much wider, the shadows cast by the moon only adding new dimensions to its sights, in the absence of colour. The nighttime sounds were so much richer. The world seemed so much more infinite, and Harry wondered, despite his growing fear, what in the world could have made their laws want to hide such a spectacle.

The more his fear grew, the more he smiled up at the moon. It made him giddy. He spun circles and laughed at himself — quietly, so as not to attract werewolves. But they could probably smell him anyway, so.

Why was this all so liberating? Why was his fear not rooting him to the spot, making him quake in his boots? Why was he not turning tail and running back, crushed by the weight of what all of those years of curfews had taught him?

Far across the first field behind his house was a little stream running through a ditch, separating this field from the next. It was rather deep and muddy, so Harry walked along it, not deigning to cross. He’d come to accept his adventure’s end — or at least his adventure northward — before something up ahead caught his eye. It was an old, lone tree, and its gnarled roots had woven a path across the stream.

Harry smiled, holding the trunk as he stepped onto the root bridge. “Don’t mind if I do,” he muttered. Once he’d made it across, he turned, bowing dramatically to the old beech. “Thank you.”

Only minutes after he’d crossed, a fence began to take shape in his vision up ahead. Harry furrowed his brow, puzzled. Was he seeing things? His eyesight was pretty perfect — he could see all the damn small letters the optometrist threw at him without squinting, thank you very much. But for the life of him, he could never remember having seen this fence in daylight.

It was long, too, stretching out as far as he could see, west to east. As he got closer, it seemed to be about two metres tall, wooden like a garden fence, with tiny slats between its vertical planks.

Even as he drew closer and closer, it maintained a mirage-like quality. An unnatural glow to it that could not have been achieved, he was sure, with your average stain or varnish. It couldn’t have simply been reflecting the moonlight — Harry could have sworn that its colour was subtly shifting each time he looked harder at it. His curiosity begged him to take a closer look.

He approached. Nothing changed in the night’s soundtrack, but for the tempo of his footsteps picking up. When he finally reached out a cautious hand to touch it, there was an almighty _pop_ , and the sky just above him lit up red.

Harry yelled, and fell back on his arse in the grass. The blast of sparks hung in the air for a second before fading. Embers fell around him like tiny meteors.

Unable to admire them with the breath knocked out of him, Harry scrambled to his feet, turned tail and bolted back the way he came. He hadn’t gotten far when a high-pitched voice called, “Wait! I’m sorry!”

Harry stopped, whirling around. His mind was racing. He could see a figure behind the fence. It looked to be no larger than him. He couldn’t make out anything else about it.

Maybe this was what The Beasts were.

“Sorry,” called the voice again, “didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Harry stood frozen. The Beasts probably lured you in by feigning innocence.

“W-what are you?” Harry demanded, trembling.

The voice chuckled softly. “Isn’t ‘who’ a tad more polite?”

Harry didn’t want to be polite with a ghoulish monster. “I-I meant what I said. Tell me what you are.”

The voice huffed. “If you insist. For all intents and purposes, I’m a Louis.”

Harry figured he’d misheard. “A what?”

“A Louis. Y’know, like the kings of France.” And when Harry didn’t reply, “It’s a name, see.”

Harry had no idea why the creature was back-talking him, but he figured it was just another tactic of disguise for the inhuman being.

The silence continued. The being behind the fence shifted on its feet, making Harry jump. It called over, more cautiously than mockingly this time, “I guess you have a name, too?”

Harry slowly nodded.

After only more silence, the creature said, “It’s alright. You don’t need to tell me. It’s just…I’ve never seen someone behind the fence. I don’t see a lot of people out at this time of day.”

“D-d-day?” Harry stammered.

“Yeah, ‘course,” said the creature, chipper.

It took Harry a moment to pluck up the courage to speak, fearing that the creature was still acting innocent in order to trick him, but he eventually said, “It’s…it’s nighttime.”

The creature shifted again, then laughed. “Are you taking the piss?”

“No!” Harry frowned.

“But it’s so bright out this morning.”

“The _moon_ is bright this _evening_. It’s a full moon. And you’re a werewolf playing nice so that you can eat me!”

The stranger laughed, high and melodic. Only a spirit of the darkest kind could make such a pretty sound, Harry figured. “Werewolves aren’t real, numpty.”

Harry found himself squawking a laugh at that most pitiful of insults. “You’re real. And you’re definitely not human. How could I know for sure that werewolves aren’t real?” he shot back.

“You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself. But for a start, I can just about fit my very human finger through the gap in this fence. So come get your proof that I’m human…” The stranger put on a Dracula-esque voice. “If you _dare_.”

Harry saw the figure drop into a crouch. After a tense moment, the “Louis” called, “Come on, then! Not gonna sit here with my finger wedged in a fence all day. I’m a busy guy.”

Harry took a step forward, before taking another two back.

“Yoo-hoo!” Louis sing-songed.

One step forward, another one back. Harry shuddered, biting down on his lip.

“I’m even wiggling my finger a bit here. Ooh, get a load of that! You’re missing out.”

Harry snorted. This last first step took a lot of bravery, but once he’d set his foot down, his body felt a lot less light.

He walked towards the fence, speeding up as his confidence grew. Proving his nerve to himself with every step. Reaching the fence, and seeing the blob of darkness just beyond it, he got the shivers again. Forcing them down, he knelt. A fingertip was wedged through the fence slats. Harry reached out with his own, and touched it.

It was warm, and soft, and human, to the best of his knowledge.

They kept their fingers pressed together for a few seconds longer than Harry would have expected, and when he finally drew his finger back, Louis commented, “You’re shaking.”

Harry didn’t know what to say besides, “Yeah.”

“It’s alright. So. I’m human, yeah?”

Harry went quiet for a moment, before trying cheek. “I was going to guess android.”

Louis chuckled. “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment, or…”

“Sure. Androids can’t feel fear.”

Louis paused, then said, “I am feeling fear.”

“Why?”

“Maybe you’re the android. Maybe you’re acting all shy just to trick me. Who knows.”

“Why would I want to hurt some random on the other side of a fence?”

“Good point. Why would I want to, either?”

Harry sank to his knees in the grass, back a good foot or two from the fence. “Don’t you have a curfew?”

Louis snorted. “At night, like the rest of us.”

“It’s night right now.”

Harry swore he could see an eye roll. “Sure, alright.”

“Well it’s night time where I am.”

“You’re on the other side of the fence from me.”

“I’m aware.” The absurdity of it all hit Harry after a beat, and he scoffed. “Maybe you’re something a little more magical than an android after all.”

“What, like a unicorn?”

“Wasn’t my first guess, but sure.”

The next period of quiet was uncomfortable, so Harry, still shaking, eventually broke it. “You’re a Louis.”

“That I am. What might you be?”

“Harry.”

“Yes, I can just about see that, you’ve got quite the mop.”

“No, that’s my name.”

“Oh.” Louis hummed to himself. “Strange name.”

Harry frowned. “No…”

“There aren’t any Harries, where I come from.”

Harry snorted. “Is there another world on the other side of this bloody fence?”

“Apparently,” Louis said.

It was about then that Harry heard the stranger getting settled. There was a _thwump_ as a bum hit grass, and a _clunk_ of shoes against the fence, and then a forlorn sigh drifted over. Harry chewed his lip and frowned.

“I…I don’t mean to keep you,” he said. “If you’re not feeling up for talking to strangers, and you meant to be alone.”

“No,” Louis said immediately, “not at all. Just…” He shifted, grass rustling. “Little stressed out, is all. By other things. Glad for the company.”

“S’not proper company,” Harry shrugged. “I’ll understand if you, like…”

Louis snorted. “Mate, you’re sitting on the other side of a fence, and you seem happy to talk to a stranger who you’ve just met and can’t see. If _that’s_ not good company…”

Harry glowed a little at that. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener. You can tell me anything.”

“Says who?”

“Oh — my mum, I guess. And my sister.”

“Oh! How many sisters d’you have?”

“Just the one.”

Louis paused for a moment, then said, “That’s mad.”

“Why?”

“Is your mum alright? Do your neighbours have more? Are you always the odd kid out at school ‘cause you don’t have enough siblings for a scrimmage?”

Harry frowned, snorting at the barrage of questions. “My mum’s…fine.”

Louis’ tone quickly turned remorseful. “Sorry, that was…not right of me to ask, I’m sorry —”

“No, you’re fine,” Harry reassured. “I’m just…confused.”

“Sorry. I’m just a little surprised — I have four sisters, and we’re one of the smallest families in our town. Figured your town would be the same.”

“Oh. Huh,” Harry said. He shrank the tiniest bit back from the fence. Louis’ small talk sounded a bit like what an android trying to convince you it’s human would sound like — whilst trying to gather more information to better impersonate a human being. But in the back of his mind, Harry knew that couldn’t be true. Louis’ voice had a warmth and character that nothing and no one could replicate. He was either telling the full truth, or had the kind of voice that made you want to believe him regardless.

At any rate, more unicorn than android.

“What…” Harry took a steadying breath. “What are your sisters like?”

“Energetic, to say the least,” Louis said fondly. “Proud of them, though. Shit, that sounds like such a _mum_ thing to say…” he chuckled. “But I really mean it. They’re good kids. They’re really sweet, when they’re not being petty — which we all are, when we’re young.”

Harry gave a sort of half-laugh, half-sigh, and Louis took a pause to ask, “Were you going to say something?”

“Um…I was just thinking —” Harry took a moment to think of what he was going to say, but that didn’t last long before it all came pouring out of him. “When I look back on it, it’s so weird. Feels like, in all the time I’ve been alive, it’s like…I only learned about what’s important not very long ago. It’s like I’ve been sleepwalking for most of my life, and I’ve only realized it, like, yesterday…kind of.”

Louis let it sink in for a moment, before saying, “Deep.”

Harry laughed, and Louis laughed with him, before Harry said, “Seriously! I mean it! I’ve been thinking about this stuff a lot, these days.”

“About puberty?” Louis asked, and Harry thought he could see a sliver of a smile through the fence.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged.

“Ah, good old earning your manhood,” Louis sighed. “I see what you’re on about, and I certainly feel that way, about the things I did before I grew up a little. Didn’t grow up much, mind.” Sliver of smile again.

“But with my sisters, sure, they’ll get upset over spilled milk and broken toys — but they know how to be caring, and loving. And they put their friends and hobbies and things that make them happy first, always. It’s like they know what’s important more than grown ups ever will. Someday, they’ll grow up and get some more skills and common sense, but…” His shoes gave a little rat-a-tat against the fence. “You win some and lose some, I guess.”

Harry smirked. “I wouldn’t know. I’ll be forever young.”

He heard Louis lean back in the grass, and then a high whistle floated over, to the tune of “Forever Young.”

Harry was hit by an odd wave of reassurance. He inched closer to the fence. “You know that song?”

“Of course!”

“Then you’re not a unicorn from another world after all.”

“You can’t be sure. Maybe I’m from a parallel world with all the same songs as yours, and unicorns to sing them.”

Harry leaned in against the fence, narrowing one eye to peer through it. Louis startled a little and leaned back, his features shrinking back into shadow. “Hi!”

“Hi,” Harry chuckled, peering out over the flop of hair that seemed to crown Louis’ head, haloed by moonlight. The distant landscape of the other side, from what he could tell, practically mirrored that of his side. Fields bordered by trees. Farmland cast in moonlight, and the twinkle of far-off civilization.

“Doesn’t look too different to me,” said Harry.

Louis immediately leaned in to see for himself, squinting a bright little eye back at Harry, who didn’t flinch away. Louis scanned the sky, horizon, and ground, before flopping back down. “Affirmative.”

Harry laughed.

There was a minute or two of silence again. All Harry heard, aside from the crickets, were the gentle tap-tap-taps of Louis’ shoes on the fence, somehow more calming than annoying. A cold breeze made Harry curl up into himself, and scoot closer to the fence again with some odd hope that it would provide warmth.

Louis broke the silence. “Why did you come out here?”

Harry fidgeted. This was where he had to decide whether to fully trust Louis, or to acknowledge that there was a chance that he was a Beast, or some government spy who would report his wrongdoings to the Inspectors and thus have Harry sent to jail, Good Kid status forever revoked. He stretched out his legs and nervously tap-tap-tapped against the fence. Louis tapped back, and they exchanged a lazy rhythm for a while until Harry thought, screw it.

“All my life, I’ve had a curfew. And I don’t know how it works where you’re from, but no one will tell us why. I’ve heard some parents talking about it, so I think they know. But yeah, we used to always hear of the Beasts who would come for us if we ever went out.” He took a deep breath. “A kid in my year went out after curfew and went missing, once, so we all figured they’d eaten him. My friend and I tried to look for them from my bedroom window a few times, but we saw nothing. My mum was talking about them today with this other mum I babysit for — is babysitting a thing, where you are?”

Louis scoffed. “It’s my entire bloody life.”

Harry smiled. “Just checking. Anyway, they talked about curfew, and it…I dunno, I guess that was just it, for me. I felt like I had to actually go outside, once and for all. So I went walking in the fields behind my house, and here I am.”

“And you didn’t find any monsters?”

“Well, I thought _you_ were one.”

“Man, that’s brave,” said Louis. “I would have fucked right off as soon as the scary thing started talking.”

“I almost did, but you were persuasive.”

“I am known to be,” Louis purred. Harry laughed, like he seemed to do at Louis’ every remark.

“What about you?” Harry asked. “You were setting off…fireworks?”

Louis hesitated, before muttering, “Practising.”

“Practising what?”

After a longer hesitation, Louis muttered, “Fireworks.”

Harry fell silent, until Louis changed the topic. “What do you do with your life, then?”

“Hah!”

“What? It’s the only clichéd conversation starter I have left, other than commenting on the weather — which could be completely different on the other side of this damn fence. I wouldn’t be surprised, at this point.”

“Fair enough.” Harry gave it some thought. “Not much, to be honest. I just babysit and clean my room. All my friends are on holiday.”

Louis hummed his sympathy.

“What about you?” said Harry. “You do things?”

“Yeah,” said Louis. “Things.”

Harry hummed, and didn’t press further.

Louis went back to tapping his feet against the fence, murmuring a tune. Harry smiled to himself and swayed his head back and forth to the swinging beat. Recognizing that Louis couldn’t see his appreciation, he whistled along. Louis’ feet stopped tapping when he was about two notes in, so Harry stopped humming and tried to break the silence with a question instead.

“So, where you live. What’s your town call—”

He was interrupted by a low rumble on his own side of the fence.

Harry spun around, falling to his hands and knees in the grass. He scanned the field behind him frantically. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He looked back to where, at the edge of his sight, the old beech tree stood, crossing the creek. Just to the left of it, he saw a glimmer.

He heard the rumble again. A hint of snarl rose with it, turning it into a growl.

“L-Louis,” Harry said, panting now. “I see something.”

He heard Louis’ hands slap against the wood as he pressed himself to the fence to get a look. “Are you sure, Harry? I don’t see anything, but —”

“Did you hear that?”

“No, Harry, I heard nothing, I —”

The growl grew louder, and the glimmer of golden eyes grew closer. It was exactly like what Harry had imagined a werewolf would look like, it was a beast out of nightmares, it was —

“Harry,” said Louis, softer this time. Harry turned and saw a finger pushing through the fence slats once again. “Goodbye,” said Louis, with a voice that made it sound as if he was preparing to lose something. Someone.

Harry quickly stuck out his trembling finger and held it to Louis’. “Goodbye, Louis. Thank you.”

The growl got louder, and Harry’s panic rose, but he managed to add, “I’ll be back. Tomorrow.”

“Harry, you can’t say that for —”

“I will,” Harry promised again. And then he took to his feet and ran.

He dashed along the fence for quite some time, trying to get as far as possible from the tree along the creek. The growl followed him, and he had no idea what to do, other than to press harder, push himself to the very limit. He knew he couldn’t die tonight. He couldn’t get caught. He had a family to live for, he had so much to live for, so many more lazy days and long nights —

And he had promised Louis.

He had promised.

As he ran further and further west, closer to the encroaching tree line, the growl began to dissipate. The flicker of golden eyes was gone, as if he’d hallucinated it all. Harry cautiously began to curve south, back towards the lights of his street. He tried hard to quiet his panting, to creep over the crunching grass. He kept casting lightning-fast glances back to the fence, though he knew he couldn’t see beyond it any more clearly than he had before.

Louis hadn’t resumed practising fireworks.

He was overwhelmed with relief when he finally stumbled back over his garden wall. He scurried up the steps, slid open the door, and very gently shut it behind him. He hunched over and tried to pant quietly for several long minutes as he caught his breath.

The kitchen clock said it was four in the morning. Harry had to be up in four hours, but every part of him felt too hyper-alive to sleep.

He crept up the creaky stairs. If he woke his mum, he figured, he’d explain that he’d lost track of time and had fallen asleep on his phone, waking up with drool on his face at four in the morning. It would earn him some looks, but he was a Good Kid. He’d be fine.

Harry curled into bed, and stared out over the fields again. He thought he could see the slightest hint of the odd fence on the horizon. He watched it for a good five minutes, trying not to blink. No sparks rose into the sky.

 

 

 

“Up all night on the blocked web, eh?” Gemma teased, giving Harry a flick to the temple and placing a mug of tea under his nose.

Harry shrugged, neither confirming nor denying, perfectly content to let Gemma believe that he’d been watching porn instead of what he’d actually been doing.

His mum had left for work early in the morning — but not too early, thank God. He’d received no texts, nor calls, nor sticky notes on his bedroom door; nor anything to indicate that she’d had any inclination that he’d snuck out the night before.

Gemma, however, kept raising her eyebrows at him — in a teasing way, but Harry couldn’t help but worry that that look had some sort of hidden knowledge behind it. He started to avoid her gaze as he sipped his tea.

He spent his day once again getting his ass hauled around the playground. The kids’ activity was a little much for his absent mind to handle, but thankfully they weren’t feeling particularly rowdy.

Every half-second, he couldn’t help but think about Louis.

It hit him at around mid-day that he’d been thinking non-stop, all day, about someone who he’d never properly seen. But the mystery hadn’t even been the most intriguing thing about Louis — nor the _magic_ , if Harry’s mortal eyes hadn’t been mistaken. _Real_ magic! Not even that. He’d had both an edge and a sensitivity to his voice, to his presence. He’d been shy, yet loud, and playful, and snarky. The warmth he’d exuded had made Harry feel like trusting him.

He’d promised Louis he’d return, and he so badly wanted to...but what was he thinking! By the looks of it, his ridiculous childhood suspicion that The Beats were werewolves had been correct. Who’s to say that the next time he snuck out, he wouldn’t be greeted by a whole pack?

Harry imagined that his current emotional process was not unlike a professional daredevil’s. The thrill of the near-death challenge, though it was massive and looming, only made the prospect of trying and surviving glow brighter. Every time his sinking gut got the better of him, he reminded himself of his promise.

When he came home in the early afternoon after dropping the kids off at Marie’s, his mum was waiting for him in the kitchen.

“You alright?” she asked, as he sat down across from her. “You look quite unhappy.”

“Just tired,” said Harry.

Anne reached a hand over to tussle his curls. “That’s unfortunate. I was just going to go on a walk out in the fields, before curfew falls upon us. I was hoping you’d be game.”

Her mention of the fields made Harry perk up. Making his drooping body do more work hadn’t sounded appealing, but now it came with the opportunity to investigate the fence in broad daylight. Maybe he’d get to properly see through it, and take a look at the other side. Maybe, just maybe, Louis would appear again.

Harry agreed, almost enthusiastically enough to make his mum look suspicious. They set off, and spent the last golden hours of sunshine roaming northward, with the sun at their backs.

Harry kept his eyes open for the landmarks he’d seen the night before: the creek, the old beech tree. His mum made plenty of small talk, but Harry listened less and less as they kept walking. None of their surroundings looked all that familiar from last night, and it was beginning to get under his skin.

His mum smiled at him, and told him how grateful she was that he’d agreed to some mother-son time. Harry smiled back, before completely tuning out her words.

Finally, Harry spotted the old beech tree off to his right. They had wandered further to the left of it than Harry had been before. He instantly felt grounded. He hadn’t been imagining everything last night after all.

He looked ahead, expecting to see the fence. It wasn’t far from the beech tree, unless his memory was completely off.

His mum made them turn back at the creek, to Harry’s dismay. He asked her to wait a minute, while he stared and stared and stared out into the empty fields to the north of them.

There was no fence. Not even an ordinary one. Harry had figured it might look less magical without the cover of night, but instead, it was gone.

Returning home as the sun sank, Harry burned with curiosity and need. All ideas of caution he’d been entertaining were whisked away on the wind. He needed to see if Louis would return. What about the fence? Could Louis return to him if the fence wasn’t there? Were they separated forever now, never to meet again?

He had to go back tonight.

 

 

 

Anne gave him a nervous smile from across the dinner table. “Slow down a little, will you? I know you’re my big growing boy, but you’re going to choke.”

Harry swallowed a lump of mash and began to chew a little more slowly. “Sorry,” he said through stuffed cheeks.

Anne rolled her eyes.

Nick sent him picture after picture of his holiday in Majorca as Harry waited for his family to fall asleep. Pictures of Nick and his copious chest hair in tiny swim shorts that looked more like briefs, pictures of Nick out at some club with drunk guys all over him, pictures of Nick with drink after drink after drink…Harry replied with a scenic picture of his dirty kitchen and his middle finger.

Harry declared the coast clear by one o’clock. Just like before, he winced at the click of the back door’s lock, slid it open as silently as he could, and tiptoed down the back steps, hopping the garden wall.

The scene was just as serene and enchanting as it had been the night before, though the moon had waned a little. Harry didn’t twirl for joy at his freedom this time. The air tasted colder and sharper on his tongue. He kept his eyes peeled, wary.

It only struck Harry when he was halfway across the field that he should have brought some kind of weapon. But what could he have brought? A cricket bat? A Nerf gun? A Swiffer Sweeper?

He at least should have brought a jumper. It was chillier tonight.

He was, however, wearing his wellies. He crossed the creek right when he reached it, not deigning to turn and head towards the old beech. The fence loomed up ahead. Harry gave a sigh of relief. It hadn’t truly disappeared. Maybe that meant that Louis hadn’t, either.

He walked and walked until he reached it, and then turned west to walk towards where Louis had been. He ran his fingers over soft wood, so fresh and smooth it might as well have been erected yesterday.

As he drew closer to parallel with the beech, keeping his eyes peeled and his whole body on alert in case the same beast was waiting for him there, something burst into his vision up ahead. A flying spark. More red sparks followed, popping off into the sky, burning and twinkling as they fell. He’d called them fireworks, but they were so much more brilliant. They lasted longer, they spread like licking flames across the air until they disappeared. Never had such a fearsome sight brought Harry such joy and wonder.

“Louis!” he called, running full bore towards the root of the sparks. “Louis!”

As he finally closed the gap, he heard a tentative call back. “Harry?” The fire in the air froze and cooled immediately as Louis took up the call. “Harry? You’re there? You’re alright?”

“Louis!” Harry called back, laughing as the blob of Louis’ figure came into view through the fence slats.

“Harry!” Louis called back, his voice rising in laughter too.

Harry stopped before Louis, leaning his hands and forehead against the fence. “It’s so good to see you.”

“I still can’t see you,” Louis said, “but I’m so bloody glad you’re not dead!”

“So am I,” Harry grinned. “I didn’t even get caught.”

“Did you ever figure out what that thing you saw was?” Louis leaned in, face to the fence too. Harry could hear his quickened breath.

“No,” said Harry. “But I lost it. I never really saw it any clearer.” Just to check, he looked back over his shoulder. The beech tree was standing far behind him, alone.

“It better not come back…” Louis muttered.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. He let his breath slow before letting out some forced chuckles, trying awkwardly to change the subject. “So. Nice sunny day over there in unicorn land?”

Louis laughed. “Indeed. Lovely moonlit night over there in android land?”

“Meh. A bit brisk.”

“Did mummy not bundle you up well enough?” Louis clucked.

“Mummy has no idea I’m here, and she’d crucify me if she knew.”

“Ah. Right.”

There was a long pause, just like there had been plenty of the night before. It was hard to know what to say to your new friend you’d never seen, sometimes. Louis gave a nervous snort-laugh into the silence, and Harry followed. With Louis’ laughter came a sudden, staccato beam of red-orange light through the fence slats. “Oops,” he said meekly.

“Show me,” Harry said, after a beat.

“Show you what?”

“That — that light you make. Your fireworks.”

“Oh. I…”

“I saw it, just there.”

“No, that was nothing. I just switched on my torch.”

“Your torch?” Harry said, with a merry skepticism.

“Yeah,” said Louis, defiant.

“Well, show me that.”

“What?”

“Shine the beam of your torch through the fence.”

“Oh, um…” Louis mumbled. “It’s very bright, I shouldn’t.”

“Just don’t shine it at my eyes, then.”

“No, um — wherever I shine it, it’ll sting your eyes.”

“Then point it somewhere else, just make the light again.”

“Better save me battery.”

Harry laughed.

“What?” said Louis.

“There is no torch, is there?”

Harry could hear Louis’ frown in his voice. “What? Of course —”

“You’re lying.”

“Fuck off, I’m not!”

“Why don’t you want to show me your fireworks?”

Louis sighed, defeated. “I’m done practising. I should save some.”

“Oh. Alright,” said Harry.

They fell back into silence, but it was a far different silence from yesterday’s. Harry rested his back against the fence so he could keep his eyes on the looming dark behind him, and sighed. He heard a _clunk-clunk_ moments later, as Louis shifted to do the same. Harry’s heartbeat fell into line with Louis’ gentle breathing, and though the moment still felt strange and alien, with a lingering taste of tension, it was a more amicable silence than ever before.

He heard the tiniest of hums and changes in breath as Louis opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words to say. Harry let him take his time. He could be friendly with his silence.

When Louis did speak, he said simply, “Did you have a good, um, day?”

Harry laughed. The night-day difference in the fence was still rather confusing. “It was alright,” he answered truthfully. “I didn’t get much sleep, obviously, and the kids I babysit certainly did…”

“Ah, you poor Mother Goose,” Louis smiled. At least, he must have smiled.

“That’s me,” Harry conceded. After a pause, he said, “How about your — um, night?”

“Not bad, I s’pose, thank you.”

“Did you make fireworks all night?” Harry asked slowly, wonder in his voice. “How can you see them when you practise, if it’s daytime over there now?”

Harry heard Louis swallow a cough, and then readjust himself in the grass. It took him a second to catch on.

“Oh. Um, sorry. I shouldn’t ask about the fireworks —”

“Yeah, perhaps not.”

Harry bit his tongue.

Louis wasn’t keen to leave him there, though. Seconds later, his voice had a renewed vigour. “Do you ever do that thing — where, you know, you picture someone by their voice? If you hear a voice on the radio, and —”

“You have radio in Unicorn Land?”

“Of course. It’s called Unicorn Radio, we pick it up through our horns. Are you quite finished?”

“Sorry.”

Louis cleared his throat. “When I hear someone and I don’t know what they look like, I get a picture of them in my head. Do you?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

A pause.

“Do you have one of me? How do you picture me?” asked Louis. He said it plainly, but his excitement was apparent.

Harry thought for a second. His image of Louis was oddly fluid, nothing truly static about it other than the roundness of the haircut on top of his silhouette, and the fact that this silhouette was humanoid. Louis had swapped features over and over in his sleep-deprived brain, some characteristics and colours blending in with others and then shifting again before Harry could make sense of them. But somehow, this didn’t make his vision of Louis a frustrating one. Somehow, he was still beautiful and complete.

But there was no way to tell Louis that, so he went with, “You’re about the size of a Shetland pony, and your coat is periwinkle blue…”

Louis snorted. “By the Goddess…”

The odd pagan remark didn’t slow Harry’s mockery. “You have one of those rump stamps, like in My Little Pony, y’know?”

“Mm. Hot,” Louis remarked.

“Hot. Exactly. Your rump tattoo is of a cup of tea, because you’re all proper.”

“You’re bloody right I am.”

“And your horn…is…” Harry hesitated, giggles taking over.

“Long?” Louis suggested.

“Yes,” said Harry, through more giggles.

“You’ll have to give me a length…”

“Eight inches,” Harry squeaked, and Louis hummed appreciatively.

After getting his giggles out, Harry said sincerely, “You’re lucky. Wish I were a unicorn.”

“Careful what you wish for, Harry. It’s not always worth the sizeable appendages.”

Harry snorted. Only after another period of quiet did he register how Louis’ joke had sounded sad, almost.

“What else is different, on your side?” Harry asked.

Louis hummed, letting his head fall back against the fence with a soft _clunk_. “How would I know?” he said after a minute of pondering. “I’ve never been to your side.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Why don’t you just name some things, then, and I’ll tell you whether or not we have them here?”

“Alrighty then,” Harry agreed. When forced to actually consider things that are commonplace, though, he found that not much jumped to mind. And when it did, he had to factor in what kind of things might bore Louis, or might actually exist where he was, or what Louis might judge him for. He bit his lip. It was harder than he thought.

“Oh come on,” groaned Louis, “don’t think too hard.”

“I — agh!” Harry groaned. “Um — Tesco!”

“I can confirm that unicorns go to Tesco,” said Louis, laughing.

“Aha!” said Harry, proud of himself. It was easier from there. “The Rolling Stones.”

“Point number two, you old geezer.”

“Hey! I have brilliant taste.”

“I’m not debating. Geezer.”

“The BBC.”

“Yup.”

“Sheep.”

“Indeed.”

“The internet.”

Louis paused, then said “Mhm.”

“Superhero movies.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a DC fan…” said Louis through his teeth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry beamed. “You should have seen my face when I got Batman pyjamas instead of Spiderman ones for Christmas.”

“Good lad,” said Louis warmly.

They went on like that, taking turns naming things and comparing them. Barely any differences came up, aside from their varying opinions on music, memes, animals, siblings, politics, and life in all its mundanity. Sometimes Louis would pause, and Harry would wonder if he’d hit a nerve, triggered something in Louis, and he’d be right about to change the subject when Louis would pipe up again, bright and funny as normal.

“Porn,” Harry finally said. “Good, unblocked porn.”

Louis sighed, amusedly. “Of course we have porn, Harold.”

“That’s not my name.”

“Is now.”

Harry didn’t argue.

“But it’s barely ever unblocked, and the quality is debatable.” Louis trailed off into silence, and Harry took his affected voice to mean that he’d hit a nerve again.

“Oh, um, we don’t have to talk about it,” Harry said, “I just thought it’d be a laugh —”

“No, it’s fine,” said Louis. “My friends are into that stuff. Gave up on it a long time ago, meself.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said, and left it at that.

By the time their lengthy conversation of comparisons was over, Harry’s tummy was sore from laughing, and the cold air caressed their silence once more. It was a satisfying silence, like feeling full after a good meal, and Harry let himself sink into it. It was a feeling he barely remembered, so he let himself embrace every inch, forgetting to keep his eyes on the horizon.

"What does your mum do?” Harry asked sleepily.

"She, um..." Louis paused, coughing. "She's at home. W-with the girls.”

"Does she work from home?"

"Yeah, um, she's..." He trailed off.

"What does she do?" Harry asked, gently.

"She's, um, freelance," Louis got out. "Freelance...midwife.”

Harry snorted. Louis was silent, so Harry let his laughter taper out.

"Freelance midwife," Harry mused under his breath. "I like that.”

"I'll pass on your compliments to my mum," said Louis stiffly.

"Do," said Harry.

The lull of quiet rose up again. Harry found a part of him leaping in panic when he remembered the monstrous threat from last night. He scanned the dark ahead of him. He seemed to focus long enough that a crack of light began to rise, almost as if of his own doing, ribboning out along the tops of the distant rooftops and trees.

He was about to say goodbye, his heart now racing at the thought of being found out when curfew lifted at dawn, but Louis interrupted his train of thought.

"I really like you, Harry," he said.

Harry was taken aback. He leaned back against the fence to feel something solid as, with every word of Louis' that came next, a part of him felt like taking off.

"I know that sounds odd to say, like..." Louis took a deep breath in. "But you're a real comfort, you know.”

"Thank you," said Harry. He couldn't just say "thanks mate," "thanks bro," not when it was Louis. He made sure to grant Louis more genuineness, more respect. It came naturally.

As did holding off on talking about the sunrise, procrastinating from feeling time. He bit back his  
goodbye. He swallowed it.

"Nice sunset," said Louis, forgetting that Harry couldn't see it on his side of the universe.

Harry hummed in agreement.

After a few more minutes, the sun had grown far stronger. Harry turned and peeked through the fence slats to try and see if he could see another sun's light fade on Louis' face. He couldn't see past Louis' hair.

Until Louis turned, and the tip of his nose smooshed through the fence slats.

Harry pressed himself against the fence too, but his nose couldn't fit between the slats, so he ended up banging it against the gap. “Ouch."

Louis laughed at him, and Harry reached the tip of his finger through the gap and poked Louis' nose chidingly. Louis paused at the unexpected contact, but then Harry laughed, and Louis laughed louder.

It was then that the first rays of sunlight touched the fence above Harry's head.

"Shit," said Harry, "I need to go.”

"And you need to watch your language.”

"Alright, mother."

"That's Mother Unicorn to you.”

"Fine," Harry smiled.

Louis pressed pouty lips against the gap, and said what sounded like "Bye!" through his fish face.

Harry laughed. A first instinct reaction bubbled up, but he pushed it down and forced himself to scramble to his feet and take off towards the sunrise.

He paused about halfway to the creek. In all his over-thinking, he'd forgotten to say goodbye.

"Bye!" he called belatedly over his shoulder.

He could have sworn he saw another few red sparks shoot into the air above the fence, but his fading mind might have just been twisting the light of the sunrise.

He ran, and his run picked up into a sprint as he saw just how fast the night was trickling away. Only when he'd managed to sneak back to his bedroom did he pause to decode what that nagging first instinct back at the fence had been.

Louis had smushed his face against the gap, and then what?

Lighter feelings floated to mind, so Harry let himself relax into his sheets. The panic died down in his chest until he suddenly figured it out, and his heart lurched.

He'd wanted to kiss.

 

 

 

Harry's adrenaline kept him charged until the dreaded hour of three o'clock in the afternoon, when he promptly crashed.

Crashing when you're looking after a six year old, a three year old and an eighteen-month old at once is generally quite unpleasant.

Harry sat himself down on the nearest bench, and let his head loll onto his shoulder for an unsatisfactory taste of rest.

"Harry! Harry!" called the eldest from the top of the play structure. "You still haven't caught me! You're still the Beastie, you know."

"Beasties like to sleep in the daytime," Harry groaned.

The six year old was not impressed. His yells turned to snapping. "Harry! Harry!"

"Harruuuuuu," howled the three year old shrilly from her sand pit. When Harry's eyes darted over to see if something was wrong, she started cackling.

"Come catch me, you great big poo!" cajoled the six year old.

There was absolutely no way to tell them that Harry was exhausted to the point of feeling ill because he'd transgressed the number one rule of their town two nights in a row, and he'd met a sweet and funny boy who liked making fireworks who lived on the other side of the longest garden fence imaginable, and that he'd never even seen his friend except for in flashes, but all the same, last night he'd been moved to kiss him, and not in a fun way like you'd do at some dumb party with a stranger, or like someone of their age would do before entering into a non-committal playground marriage — but in a way that felt more important.

They'd never even get past the idea of inviting the forsaken cooties.

When Harry closed his eyes in surrender, the eldest was by his side in minutes, poking and poking and breathing uncomfortably hot into his ear. “Harry! Harry! Harry...."

 

 

 

When he came home for dinner, there was a notice on the table. His gut tightened.

"Inspectors been by?" he asked his mum, who was sat reading there.

She looked up from her book, her gaze conflicted. "Yes, love. We can take a look at it after dinner, if you like."

Harry didn't hesitate to pick it up.

It was titled "Protecting Our Children," and it looked very official. Harry didn't get much out of his first look through, exhausted as he was. Meaning only sank in after several rounds of re-reading the last paragraph.

"Rest assured the procedure has been tested and approved in other jurisdictions for children of all ages. We have faith in its ability to make safety in our community much more effective and affordable.

Signed, Mayor Justine Ellis."

"What procedure?" Harry asked so fast that it came out in an anxious blur.

"What was that, darling?"

"Are we getting a procedure?"

Anne saw the sudden stress in Harry's face and sighed. "It's just a small one."

"A small what? What is it?"

"It's to help stop things like what happened to Lester from ever happening again."

"How can they do that with _surgery?_ "

"It'll just be a small aid, that can help our forces find you if you go missing."

"But I won't go missing, mum,” said Harry, trying not to sound frantic. “I'm good, I always am."

"I know, Harry, but if you're in a place where you can't make good decisions, or someone takes you —”

"Why would that _ever_ happen?"

"Harry —"

"You're gonna have them put a chip in me?!”

"To keep you safe!" Anne begged, her voice growing more ragged in protest.

"That doesn't keep me safe, it puts me in danger! Someone could find me when I don't want them to —”

"They've promised transparency, Harry," said Anne sternly. "Everyone in our town is giving them to their children, and I will not be the only one to opt out and suffer if you or Gems ever find yourselves at risk. As you are still my charge, I can make decisions on your behalf, and you are getting this procedure." Harry could see her hands trembling against the table.

Harry was shaking, too, but with the fear that was metabolizing into anger in his stomach. He set the paper back down. He took a deep breath, scrubbed his hands down his hot cheeks, and turned to head upstairs.

He immediately wished he'd studied the paper a little harder. He needed to know how much time he had left to see Louis, before it would all be taken away from him.

 

 

 

That night he was out the door quicker than lightning, barely able to manage his usual stealthy trip across the back lawn. He took off into the fields at breakneck speed, eyes darting around wildly, already feeling like he was being watched more than he ever had before.

He took a flying leap across the creek, and barely managed not to hit water. He scrambled up its muddy banks. Ahead of him at last dawned the fence.

There were no sparks yet tonight, and Harry's panic grew. It didn't mean anything, he promised himself. He narrowed his eyes as he ran closer, looking for a familiar blob of shadow on the other side. He caught sight of it, but then it vanished. Harry leaned on the fence, panting, letting his eyes play tricks on him as he searched for shadows in the dark.

He began to walk the fence like a stalwart guard. Louis was always right here, straight ahead of where the old beech pointed. He could have readjusted a little this time, just budged a little downwind. He held on to hope.

After a few minutes of walking back and forth, there was a knock on the fence. Harry jumped. A whinnying sound came from where the knock had been. Harry froze, breathing heavily.

After a beat, a voice made a far more human-sounding "Neigh!"

"You little shit!" Harry grinned, running at the fence. He slammed into it, as if he'd been going in for a big hug before he'd remembered the barrier.

Louis laughed warmly, squinting one blue eye through the gap. Harry had never seen colour in Louis' eyes before. But this blue was strong and unusually bright. Louis blinked and pulled away before Harry could admire it much.

"How are you?" Louis asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "Good. Alright."

"Those aren't the same thing, and you don't even sound alright, to be honest."

Harry sighed. "I have something to tell you. But later."

There was a pause before Louis said, "Alright."

They sat down, facing each other this time. Louis told stories about his sisters and their recent foolery and their playground drama, and Harry listened, rapt. Louis was an excellent storyteller, even when the story was small. Harry hummed and laughed in Louis' pauses, and that made Louis' delivery grow brighter and stronger. His presence was strong enough to pierce through that fence, making Harry forget that he'd never even truly seen him. They were there, together, regardless of what his hapless senses would have him think.

Harry responded with stories of his recent experiences of being dragged around the playground, and Louis listened and laughed and punctuated his pauses with listening words. Harry felt like he was almost as good of a storyteller as Louis, the way Louis was paying him attention.

Harry kept his story going for longer than his latent thoughts and slow voice were used to, fearing that silence would mean that Louis would remember what had been promised for “later,” and Harry would have to tell him about the procedure all too soon.

His fears were soon proven reasonable. As the stories wore on, Louis began to laugh a little less in between punchlines. There was a sense of stillness emanating from him, the kind that was familiar to Harry from the states of focus he’d observed in others — his mum tight-lipped and still whilst filing her taxes, Gemma frowning and tense as she hovered over her laptop, thinking up the perfect wording for a thesis, Niall staring at the late afternoon sky as he cradled his guitar and searched for an unsung song…

Louis had not forgotten, not even for a second. Harry smiled sadly, cursing himself for happening upon a clever boy who couldn’t be easily evaded.

Though he knew, deep down, that that was the biggest blessing. To have a friend who would keep him honest and hold him accountable, who would never forget a detail and who could re-magnetize his moral compass.

Louis was a blessing himself.

The blessing cleared his throat. “You were going to tell me something. Sounded important. I’m all ears.”

Harry was silent for a tense moment, before trying out a belated joke. “For all I know, you really could, actually, be made entirely out of ears.”

Louis snorted. “Took you a while to think of that one.”

“Hey. Just an observation.”

“Mhm. Thanks for reminding me that there’s this fence between us. Real pick me up.” Louis’ sarcasm said something that Harry had never thought he’d hear — Louis wanted to see him. To be closer to him. Louis wanted that, so much that a even a subtle reminder of the fence was unwelcome, even in a simple joke.

“I…” Harry wanted to derail his train of thought and never mention the tracker. Replace that important thing with a new important thing — he liked Louis. He ought to tell him.

“Take your time,” said Louis. But Harry didn’t want to take his time. He knew what he had to say.

“There’s…they’re giving the kids in my town a procedure. So that they can find us if we run off.”

Louis was shocked into silence for a moment. “Like…a tracker?” he asked. It hurt Harry to hear how meek he sounded, compared to how loud and bright he’d been just moments ago.

Harry nodded, before remembering that Louis couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he said, “Sounds like it.” He swallowed. “So when they do it, I won’t…”

“You won’t come out here anymore,” Louis finished for him. “I get it.”

 _No_ , Harry wanted to say. That’s not what that had to mean. Harry dug his fingers into his thighs, as if clinging real hard to this moment and this place could stop time for just long enough.

“There’s got to be a way around it,” Harry said. “I’ve been saving up all summer, I’m sure someone out there can take it out for a fee —”

“Don’t do that,” Louis said sternly. “This isn’t worth hurting yourself over.”

“I’ll be hurting myself more if I let them stop me from seeing you.” His thighs started to hurt from his own grip, but he only gripped harder. “Or, like. Hearing you.”

Louis gave a weak chuckle.

The boys fell into silence, now faced with the enormity of deciding what to do on one of their last nights together. After a good few minutes of thinking, and squeezing away stress, Harry got up the courage to ask for something. This something had earlier seemed to be a request that would make Louis uncomfortable, which Harry hadn’t been willing to do. But now, circumstances had changed, and maybe the limits of Louis’ comfort zone had changed, too.

“Louis,” Harry muttered.

“Yeah, love?” said Louis. And maybe he’d intended for it to sound casual, like something you’d say to a good mate, but he had said it so intimately, in a way that trickled through the gaps in the fence like a delicate stream, and so Harry’s heart burned, and his courage grew.

“Can you turn on your torch?”

“What?”

“I’d like to see your eyes, Lou. More of them. Whatever I can of them, anyway.”

Louis took a deep breath. Harry saw his shadowed outline lean in. He didn’t hear a click as a soft red-orange light appeared, caressing Louis’ face. Louis’ eye glinted, a stormy gray this time against the beam. Harry leaned in to try to see more, managing to catch a glimpse of both of Louis’ eyes at once, and to see that they were sad. After a beat, the beam narrowed, and then the light went off.

“Could you see me, too?” Harry asked. He saw Louis nod.

“Are you sure?” Harry smirked. “Alright then. What colour are my eyes?”

“Green, you numpty,” Louis groaned.

Harry laughed. “Alright, then. You win.”

“As well I should.”

Harry sighed, smiling. “Yeah, alright. Show off.”

“Not quite, Harold. I can’t _show_ you much of anything.”

Harry shrugged. “Technicality.”

“If you say so…”

Something was boiling beneath Louis’ surface, and it was beginning to show. Harry hated it. He recognized the rage, the melancholy, the impatience bubbling up in Louis’ tone, and he wanted to stamp it out, force it away, to feel like their last moments weren’t going to be strained and painful. They deserved better.

He tried changing the mood. “Let’s play a game.”

“What?”

“Put your torch back on, and leave it on the ground. It can be like our little campfire!”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Louis.

“You know what’s ridiculous?” Harry shot back. “Bringing a torch out in broad daylight.”

Louis went quiet.

Harry was hit with instant regret, and tried again. “Come on, I want to talk to you. This might be one of the last chances I get, and I don’t want to waste it…”

“What’s the point…” Louis muttered.

“The point is _you_ , Lou,” Harry insisted. “You are important, and what you have to say is important to me. I’m not letting that go.”

Louis sighed.

“I like you,” Harry said. “Like, a lot.”

“I like you too,” Louis said eventually, sounding like every syllable could be the end of him.

“Come on!” Harry said, trying hard to pick the mood back up again. “Put on the torch!”

After a reluctant second, a warm light pooled on the ground beneath them. A light crossing into both of their worlds.

“Good,” said Harry. “Now. Ask me a question.”

“Um…” said Louis, “what are we doing, exactly?”

“We’re getting to know each other more, by asking questions.”

Louis sighed. “I’d rather we just talk, if I’m honest.”

“Alright,” said Harry. “But I want to talk about you.”

Louis chuckled. “Happens to be my favourite subject.”

Harry smiled, leaning his head against the fence in one of the most near-affectionate gestures he could pull off with Louis on its other side.

“But I don’t know how to start talking about meself, I’m afraid.”

“Can I ask you a question, then?”

Louis snorted. “Fine.”

Harry stopped to think, super-conscious both of how time was running out, and of how badly he needed to get this one right.

“That’s a riveting question, Harold,” Louis teased, right before Harry cut him off with, “What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do…but you can’t?”

He heard a soft clunk as Louis laid his forehead against the fence. He heard the faint sounds of fingers toying with the grass before Louis answered, “Play football.”

Harry scoffed. “Honestly? You can’t play football?”

“Mum always said it wasn't for me. I wanted to play over the summer, but she found me...a job. It, um...paid well, and so she made me take that, to help out with the girls. She didn’t like seeing me play in my free time much, either. Always said I had better things to be doing...”

It had seemed so trifling, but now Harry was hit with the full weight of it. He gave a sad hum.

“Yeah,” said Louis. “Somedays I’d still bring a ball out alone, all the way out here, and kick it against the fence, play keep-up. I remember the day they built it higher. One day, I just came back to it, and there it was. A good bit taller. About half a Louis, I figured.”

Harry was suddenly hit with an idea. “Lou?”

“That’s me.”

“How far d’you reckon the fence goes on like this?”

“It goes to the coast. If it even ends at all.”

“No, but like…” Harry took a second to re-formulate his thoughts. “You said they built it higher, once. If we follow it, we could get to a place where it’s lower, right? We could see each other!”

Louis paused. “Um, Harry, I don’t think that’s how it works…”

“But isn’t it worth a try?” Harry said, voice bright with hope. “We can walk together — east, let’s say — and keep going until we find the end, and then we can see each other!”

“But what if it never ends?” Louis said. “It could go on until the end of the earth, and then — ”

“And then we’ll have had a good long walk together,” Harry shrugged.

“And then you’ll have run away from your family for days, and no one will know where we are, and if something happens to us —”

Harry’s hope fizzled out, deflated by the bite in Louis’ voice. “Fine then,” he muttered.

Louis heard, and heaved a tiny sigh. They were silent for a while, and Harry hated himself. If only he could have kept his stupid idea quiet, they could have had a happy conversation to remember each other by, not some —

“I hate it…” Louis took a second to breathe, regain composure. “But I want to do it.”

Harry perked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Louis. “I really, really do.”

Harry smiled. He placed his palms on the fence, on either side of where Louis’ face would be. He saw Louis squish his nose into the fence gap, and leaned in to do the same. It was a tight pinch, and Harry squawked, but their warm noses touched, and the boys giggled.

“Tomorrow, then?” said Louis, pinched nose making the serious proposition sound comical. “Before it’s too late?”

Harry giggled again, but answered seriously, “Tomorrow.”

With hisses and grunts, they both detached themselves from the fence and sat back down. Back to back this time, backs against the fence. Harry smiled into the happy silence, relieved that this would not be the end. They would go on one last adventure, or be caught trying.

“Is it my turn to ask _you_ a question?” Louis asked a little later, sounding far more at ease than before.

“I thought you were your own favourite topic,” Harry teased.

“I am,” said Louis matter-of-factly, “but Harry is my second-favourite.”

If only Louis could have seen how that made Harry beam.

“Alright then,” said Harry. “Shoot.”

It took a long time for Louis to think up a proper way to phrase his question. Harry was right about to tease him back — “Look who’s asking riveting questions now!” — when he spoke.

“What would you do now…if you could touch me?”

Harry felt his brain short-circuit.

He tried to think about it, digging his fingers into his thighs again to steady himself. In the back of his mind, ever since he’d told Louis that he liked him, he had been cognizant of touch, and how much he would like to touch Louis if ever he could. But he’d never thought, even when Louis had said he’d liked Harry back, that Louis would ever think about touching Harry, or Harry touching him. But there was _want_ in Louis’ voice. The kind of want that Harry knew about, but had rarely ever heard. Louis’ voice made it beautiful.

He heard Louis’ breathing grow a little heavier in time with his own, and finally found himself answering, “I would...touch your face. Hold it in my hands. I would...kiss you. For, um. For a long time.”

Louis chuckled. “Pretty basic stuff, then?”

“No!” Harry insisted. He bit his lip, now even more weighed down by self-consciousness. Louis laughed, warmly.

Harry breathed deep, trying to conjure up all of his best fantasies, sifting through them for the perfect thing to say. He’d been intimate with others before, but never like this. Never had he felt the pressure to use his head, to assemble his thoughts like poetry, to impress.

It was a humble thought, but he made himself say it anyway. “I would kiss you with my mouth open. I…” He snorted at himself, at how stupid and flustered he was, but Louis was just quiet, waiting, this time.

Harry snapped back into it. “I want to kiss your neck, maybe bite it…whatever’ll make you shiver. I want to slip my tongue between your lips, touch my tongue with yours. I want...I want to be naked together.”

Louis’ voice was still teasing and haughty, but Harry thought he heard it strain a little, get a little higher in pitch as he said, “You’ve never even seen me clothed, you’ll have to enjoy that bit first…”

Harry pouted. “That was implied!”

“Sorry!” Louis gave a happy hum. “Continue.”

Harry cleared his throat and resumed. “I want to press our chests together. Want to feel you, touch you everywhere, press your bare skin against mine everywhere we can…” It was hard, talking dirty to someone you couldn’t describe. Harry had to take a few risks. “And I...want to feel our — our cocks together. I-if you have a cock, that is. It’s cool if you don’t, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“I have a cock, Harry,” Louis reassured, with a smirk in his voice.

“In that case, I want to deep throat it,” Harry said with renewed conviction. “I want to look up at you while I do it, see how your face looks when I make you moan...look into your, your eyes as I take you down…”

Louis let out a breathy groan, and Harry grinned.

“You want that, too?” he breathed.

Apparently Louis’ hearing was superior. “I want _you_ , Harry. Anything with you.”

Harry bit his lip, thinking something he felt awful for thinking, but he didn’t want to stop thinking it for the world, it was for Louis and for himself and it was important, somehow, and he —

“Harry?” Louis’ question was soft, but eager.

Harry shuddered through a sigh. He clasped his hands chastely in his lap and muttered, “C-can you…um…”

“What do you want me to do, Harry?” said Louis, high pitched and wispy, as if desperate for something.

For _him_.

“Uh…” Harry took another stiff breath of cool night air. A jolt of confidence shot through him. “Is anyone around?” he asked.

“Where I am?” Louis paused. “No one. Not at all.”

“Can you…touch yourself?”

Louis’ breath hitched, and he made a sound halfway between a whimper and a hiccup. “I…mmmph…I already am, love.”

Harry let his head loll back. It made a _thunk_ against the fence, and the crown of his head throbbed in pain, and even that couldn’t break the feeling enveloping him. He reached a hand into his own trackies, peeling back the elastic of his boxers. He moaned in the back of his throat as he began stroking his cock, tightening his grip as Louis made more gorgeous, high-pitched sounds.

“Are you?” Louis asked, breathing heavily. “Are you, love?”

Harry let out an _ah_.

“Are you touching yourself, love?” Louis clarified, breathy and sweet. When Harry said nothing, too focused on the pressure, Louis went on. “I heard you, just then. Want to hear you more. Hear you pleasuring yourself. If I could reach you, I’d do it for you. I would suck you so well, love. You’d never get enough of me…” Louis gave a knowing hum. “...of my tongue...”

Harry outright mewled, jerking himself harder. The distance and the cold night in front of him started to pull him out of the moment, to make him fear, so he took his free hand and stuck his fingers into the closest fence gap. He found them poking into Louis’ bum, until he felt Louis shift, and warm fingertips touch his again. That tiny touch was electric, warm and stirring. Harry jerked himself harder, desperately trying to imagine the feeling of Louis’ hands on him instead, trying to commit the feeling of Louis’ fingertips to memory, supplant it onto the feeling of his own.

Harry was so lost in pleasure and frustration that when Louis’ high, thin, panting voice spoke up again —

“I want you to mark me, someday. I want to see bites and bruises all down my neck in the mirror, after I wake up with you — ah! Want to know that they’re yours —”

— Harry couldn’t feel the ground beneath him anymore, numb to anything of his own world, lost in everything of Louis’.

“Want to, Lou,” he promised, voice sounding more wrecked with every second. He was about to come in his pants on the hard packed earth, in the middle of the night, against a fence out in rural nowhere, talking dirty to a stranger he’d never ever seen, and yet all he could do was pull tighter, pull harder, and beg, “Want to, want to, want to —”

Their sweaty fingertips pressed harder together, each of them trying to force more feeling out of that tiny bit of contact.

Louis stopped speaking, caught up in groans and gasps. Harry pictured those bright eyes squeezing tight as his lips fell open. Louis gasped and moaned again, perfectly in time with the picture in his mind. He tightened his fist, and they moaned together.

“Tell me more,” Harry breathed. “Tell me what you want.”

The sounds of Louis’ panting got higher and higher. A string of mewls and grunts followed, getting faster and faster, higher and higher.

“That’s it, babe,” Harry purred. “Now — _uuuuuh_ — tell me. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Louis’ voice strained, mad with the friction.

“Tell me,” Harry begged. He pressed his finger even closer into Louis’, still warm and grounding through their clammy sweat.

“ _Fuck_ me!” Louis whined, his voice so high and ragged it was obscene. “Need you to fill me up and _wreck_ me, love — wreck me, wreck me, wreck me —”

Harry felt his orgasm beginning to build right as Louis’ voice hitched again and shuddered out “H-Harry…I’m coming! I’m — _ah!_ ”

“Come for me, babe,” Harry breathed, his own voice barely steady. “C-come, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…”

Just as Louis let out the most heavenly of moans, Harry spilled all down the front of his trackies, stroking his softening length as Louis gasped and sighed, groaned and purred.

When the moment cooled back into reality, it was sort of awful. Harry now had come-stained pants and filthy fingers, and nothing to help clean him up but his clothes and the sobering cold night air.

Louis’ fingertips twitched against his, reminding him that they were still connected, in that tiny way. Harry smiled. Everything that had begun to feel wrong was washed from his mind, love and pleasure flooding back in. No one was around to care how filthy they were. No one was around to catch them, or scold them, or tell them they were wrong. Not even The Beasts. It was Harry and Louis against the world.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Harry said, warm and slurred from his waning orgasm haze.

Louis was silent for a moment, and Harry began to fear that he’d been swallowed by guilt, but then he said, “I think...I think I love you.”

Harry pressed his fingertips further into Louis’, as close as they could get, and whispered, “I love you, too...I think.”

 

 

 

When he woke up, it was Saturday. Harry never babysat Saturdays.

He slept in until noon, and lay in bed just thinking until his mum came in.

"Just came to check if you're alive!"

Harry gave a thumbs up from under a heap of sheets.

"Pancakes downstairs if you're hungry. On a plate in the oven."

She closed the door and retreated.

Harry felt guilty for every step he took out of bed. If tonight went as planned, he probably wouldn't make it back home by sunrise. Maybe he wouldn't make it back for days. Weeks, if time moved differently in Louis' world. If he found some sort of gap, and crossed the fence. If he saw Louis for the first time.

Tonight could change everything. His mum was usually the first person he ever told about any change that actually mattered. He was a mischief, but Harry never kept secrets of this magnitude for this long, and from someone so important. Everything in him was screaming to let it out.

But his mum was on the wrong side. Harry was a Bad Kid, and his mum couldn't know. His oldest love could snap the neck of his newest love in a heartbeat, if Harry let her.

Love had never been this dangerous.

 

 

 

The air felt charged that night as Harry dashed out in his hoodie and wellies. He regretted not bringing a torch, much as that had the potential to get him caught. It was darker than usual, with a waning moon trapped behind clouds. It took longer than before for Harry to catch sight of the fence.

No sparks flew up ahead as he drew nearer. Harry tried not to expect anything — nothing ever happened how he expected it to. But every step closer without sign of Louis gave him cause for worry. He couldn't help a sense of loss spreading through him, even when he tried to bite it back.

He tried to leap the creek but fell on this front against the bank, muddying his hands and chest. He swore, and forced himself to take a second to breathe. He was overthinking, hurting himself before he knew anything about his situation.

He rubbed his hands on the grassy bank. A feeling of emptiness bore a hole into him where his aching worry had been seconds ago. He breathed deeply again, humid air filling his emptiness. He clambered out of the creek bed and kept on.

He braced himself for the sparks as he came panting up to the fence. He braced himself for a voice, a laugh, something. Nothing came as quickly as Harry had hoped, and so the empty feeling continued.

He began to walk the perimeter, restless. Maybe Louis had just shifted a little westward. He hadn't always shown up in the exact same place, straight ahead of the old beech.

"Louis?" Harry called. "Louis?"

Maybe Louis had beaten him to the end of the fence. Maybe he was already there, waiting, at the place where their two worlds met in an eternal frozen sunset, with a picnic basket and a bottle of sunshine, and a pocketful of red sparks.

Harry stopped and leaned against the fence. If he was, it was pretty shitty of him to leave Harry alone like this without so much as a clue. It had barely been two minutes of walking and already he felt abandoned.

Harry turned and walked back eastward at some point, walking further along the fence in that direction than he'd ever gone, expecting to hit the road out of town at some point. He didn't. Nothing changed, and he didn't find Louis.

Maybe this was all some grand surprise? Louis hadn't pulled the wool over his eyes with the horse imitation, so maybe he was going all out to get a reaction out of him this time. It sounded like a very Louis thing to do.

Harry gave up after a few hours of walking had dragged on. He sat down in the wet grass, back in his usual place across from the old beech, and laid his head against the fence, looking up at the murky sky. His heart braced for a knock on the planks by his ear, or a beam of firelight shooting through the air above him, but something inside him knew. Louis wasn't coming.

He spent an hour trying to wait out his chills, curled tight into a ball, thinking up every reason that Louis couldn't be there with him. Maybe he was grounded. Maybe he had been put in jail. Maybe he was bedridden with disease. Maybe he was dead.

Every possibility hurt in its own particular way. If it were for some small, crappy reason, maybe Louis didn't care about him after all. But if something had happened to him, Harry had perhaps lost his person to care about.

It was a gray, gloomy dawn that met his wilted body at sunrise. The night fading away barely provided him with comfort. He couldn't make himself move, couldn't bear to stand up out of his crumpled position. He was sore all over.

Only when the sky had become light enough to sting his eyes did Harry feel the urgency to get moving. He didn't bother shaking the twigs and grasses from his pants or rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as he staggered to his feet, feeling drunk and hungover all at once.

When he finally reached home, birds had started singing, and signs of the community stirring were starting to show. Harry crept into the alley and shook the caked mud from his wellies. The back door creaked very loudly, and Harry swore under his breath. He stowed his dirty wellies at the bottom of their garment trunk and tiptoed upstairs, the traitor stairs also creaking beneath him.

His mum opened her bedroom door right as he reached the landing. "What's got you up this early?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Thirsty!" Harry said quickly, and the sharpness in his voice caught his mum's ear.

"Everything alright?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"S'fine," said Harry, sounding sadder than he'd intended to.

She let him leave it at that, and pecked him on the cheek as she made her way past.

Harry collapsed into bed, relief surging in him like a head rush. As soon as he felt the strength to, he cried again. He cried himself to sleep, and spent most of that day in a haze-like rest.

 

 

 

"If you're going to be this tired during the day all the time, I might as well set you up with night work."

"Don't say that, mum, he's done nothing criminal," mumbled Gemma through a mouthful.

"What? It's a viable option. Indoors, of course. Are you awake enough to pass the cheese?"

Harry gave a "Mrmph," eyes fixed on his plate.

"Harry? Cheese?"

Harry nodded. "Uh huh."

"Harry, you're not listening to the question."

Gemma rolled her eyes and passed the cheese. Anne nodded a curt thanks.

At this point, Harry was more distracted by anger and determination than by sleeplessness, though the cloud of exhaustion certainly didn’t help. He had to try again, tonight. He couldn't give up on Louis. He had spent every waking moment of the day going over their last conversation in his head, hunting for clues that Louis might have been about to pull away from him. He had sounded afraid for their mission to the end of fence — but who wouldn't be? Who knew how long it could be, what they could meet along the way?

The only evidence Harry could think of was buried deep, under many presumed layers of meaning. The only thing left to do was to return to the fence, and stay for as long as it took to find Louis. Maybe Louis would send volley after volley of sparks into the sky as soon as darkness fell, to tell him that he was still there, back from a temporary absence.

The brisk air that night did just enough to wake Harry up, along with his pumping adrenaline. He reached the fence in record time, and walked it back and forth all night, turning around and walking the other way whenever fear or anger or guilt began to swallow him.

The first crack of dawn came grey again. His throat was raw as he screamed for Louis one last time. He made it back to his bedroom by the time the sun had fully risen this time, and collapsed again.

The next night, he stayed in one place, curled up on the damp ground. Louis didn't come.

One night later, Harry wandered and wandered but couldn't even find the fence. It felt like a dream — one of those painful dreams that are full of thwarted desires, with no typical dream curiosities to be found.

The night after that, it was a comfort to even find the fence at all. Harry sat down with his back against it, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t have to feel so hopeless anymore. But the night washed away into a grey dawn like before, and he brought himself home on weary feet.

The next two nights were much the same, except this time, he found the strength to cry. His daytime life was starting to catch up with him, too — his mum was worried, and was booking him in for a checkup with their doctor for as soon as was available. She didn’t talk to him about the surgery, but he caught bits of conversation here and there — it was coming up, this weekend.

The dark, stormy skies seemed to carry the weight of it all, and though they were far above his head, Harry felt constantly flattened under their weight, suffocated. The little glimpse of hope that Louis might show up again slowly flickered out. When Harry stumbled home that next Saturday morning, he felt completely drained of all feeling. There didn’t seem to be much left in him.

He wasn’t surprised when his mum came to rouse him at noon. She stuffed him into the car next to Gemma before he could properly wash up, or have anything to eat or drink. No one seemed to want to talk to him as his mum drove off rather aggressively, parking them in the dingy parking lot behind a clinic.

Inside, under the mind-numbing fluorescent strip lights, people from their town formed a line, snaking down corridors, and in and out of rooms. Harry could see blank expressions on so many familiar faces. Even the town’s young children were uncharacteristically quiet. Even people like Niall, who was so far ahead of him that Harry couldn’t call out a greeting, and who was standing so still that Harry hadn’t recognized him for a good long moment in the first place.

Without his phone, Harry was couldn’t make a joke out of this whole business to Nick, who was still blissfully on vacation, so he stared at the ground, with a painful, empty feeling in his head.

In a few hours, he was seated in small white room in what looked like a dentist’s chair, and was given a local anesthetic. The nurse held out his left arm, and before he’d come to expect it, he felt a sharp pain. He didn’t dare look. His wound burned through the anesthetic for a while. They then stitched him up, and gave him a dour red lollipop.

Not red like Louis’ fireworks. Blood red.

Harry couldn’t make sense of whether he felt too numb to be sick, or too sick to be numb, as his mum eventually came to escort him back to the car.

 

 

 

That whole next week could well have been non-existent, for all Harry could tell. The only way to note the passage of time became watching the slow progress of his healing surgical scars. He looked at them once every morning — if he ever got up — and then forced himself to look away for the rest of the day.

He tried to get back into the swing of things after a while, but when he came to pick up Marie’s children on Tuesday morning, she figured he was ill, and sent him home with a motherly bundle of get-well things — scones, mostly.

He barely left his room for the rest of that week. Trying to act normally when he’d suffered a loss he could tell no one about was too big a burden to bear. He was best to shield himself from everything.

Louis' disappearance had something to do with him, he told himself. He'd been Louis' downfall, had tempted him into some dark fate with the evil that was his caring, and now he had to pay for it by never showing his face ever again, lest he risk doing something wrong.

In the early hours of Saturday afternoon, his mum came in to check on him for the fifth time, this time with a warm mug of tea. Harry left it on the windowsill by his bed to grow cold. He couldn't take comfort from something so regular that had come to represent Louis. Every mundane detail of his life had some connection to _Louis_ , so he couldn't bear to lift his head out from the covers. Every breath came with a pinch of guilt in his gut.

But as the afternoon wore on, worry and guilt began to fuel restlessness. He needed an outlet, even if that outlet was the steps it took to walk down the stairs and into the kitchen for dinner time. He plucked up the courage to do that, at least.

His mum didn't bother him, and made up for her silence with an extra helping of shepherd’s pie. Gemma likewise didn't speak to him, but cleaned up after him when the meal was over.

The late hours of that night were the most torturous. He’d figured, seemingly eons ago, that he might finally begin to rework his circadian rhythm, now that he wasn't sneaking out until sunrise every night. But nothing about his inner state had let him sleep that week, and tonight was no different. He was trapped in an endless cycle of harsh panic after dull worry. Every second hurt.

He was startled by a jolting throb in his left arm. He winced and grabbed it, his hand closing over the wrinkled, healing skin covering his tracker. A moment later, it pulsed again. Harry's head started a doom spiral. Of course the tracker was meant to kill him. Would it poison him first, or eat him up from the inside?

The pulsing stopped. Harry's heart rate refused to slow. He lay back, now even more painfully awake.

And then the drainpipe rattled.

Harry was at the window in a flash, gazing into the stinging light of the full mood. He couldn't see anything. There was a bash against the downstairs door, and then a rustling in the neighbour's hedgerow. Harry's eyes darted left to right and nothing met his eye.

The bashing on the glass garden door began again. Harry’s heart started jack-rabbiting. He sat back down on his bed and closed his eyes tight, hands squeezing his thighs, praying it would fade.

But then a voice.

"Harry! Harry!"

Shrill and desperate.

It had to be his tracker giving him hallucinations. Tempting him out into the garden just so he could be caught and punished.

The voice broke.

"Harry! Harry!" it pleaded.

And only when it broke further, when it grew raw and turned into a wail, did Harry know.

He charged downstairs, insomniac adrenaline giving him superhuman speed. He crashed down into the kitchen and saw, outlined against the moon, a shadow at the door.

His head had that same shape that Harry recognized. Same rounded swoop of hair. He was slightly smaller than Harry, more delicate in some ways and stronger in others.

Harry clicked open the lock and yanked open the door. A pair of unusually bright eyes met his.

"Come in," Harry whispered.

Louis stumbled across his threshold.

He was panting loudly, so Harry put a finger to his lips. Louis ignored him.

“I’m safe,” he gasped. “I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m _safe_ —”

“Louis! Shhh!” Harry hissed. “My family —”

“Just tell me I’m safe here! Please!”

“How did you find my house?”

“Tell me I’m safe!”

“Lou, how did you get around the fence?”

“Harry, _please_ …”

Harry reached out and look Louis’ clammy hand, squeezing tight. “Of course you’re safe here. What are you —”

“It’ll come for me,” Louis breathed. “It’ll track me here, it knows _everything_ —”

“It won’t. You’re safe here. I promise.” He put a hand to Louis’ cheek, and Louis looked up at him, eyes glimmering, asking for hope.

Harry wasn’t sure he had any hope to give. If Louis had found his house, maybe “it” could too. He wasn’t sure he knew how to assess the limits of magic, but he so desperately wanted to give Louis all the hope in the world. He forced himself to muster some, for his sake.

“It’s coming, it’s coming, I can’t hide —” Louis was quivering.

“Shhh, Lou. You’re safe here. Trust me.” When Louis only stared back at him, eyes still full of panic, Harry leaned forward. It took him a moment to find Louis’ lips in the dark — they bumped noses quite a few times before he did. Harry planted a soft, reassuring kiss on Louis’ mouth, and it left him burning. Forget the fear, the pain, the trembling — Louis was here, and they could kiss — _really_ kiss. He was safe, and they were together, and they could _kiss_.

Harry squeezed Louis’ hand again before he could react and dragged him up the staircase. It was only when they were safely behind his door that he let loose the wave of emotion he'd been holding back.

It was hard to tell who leaped in for the embrace first, but neither hesitated for a second. Harry was overcome by Louis's warmth, by the soft brush of Louis' hair against his neck, by Louis' nose gently digging into his shoulder, by Louis' hand rubbing his back in circles. Harry tried to speak, but what came out were sobs of relief, mighty wails of reckless content. Never had he truly thought that he would get to hold Louis in his arms — see him, maybe, but this was better. This was all he'd ever needed.

They pulled apart after endless minutes, after each other's tears had coursed down each other's cheeks. Harry lifted his eyes to meet Louis', still shining silver in the dark.

And he asked Louis, because it felt like something sacred that had to be asked for. "Can I...can I turn on the light? Can I see you?"

Louis nodded.

Harry flicked on his bedside lamp, and in the warm light, Louis' face came into being before him for the first time.

His face was every bit as kind and as warm, as sharp and as mischievous and as soft and as strong as his voice and his touch were. Bright eyes stood out above a nose that Harry just wanted to peck, and a mouth that Harry could have admired, had it not been pursed in fear. Louis' face was pockmarked in places, red and blotchy in others. His messy hair almost covered his eyes. He couldn’t see much through of Louis’ body through his baggy clothes, but from what he could tell, Louis was tanned, with gentle curves to die for.

Harry felt the urge to kiss him again. So bad he had to keep himself from sobbing with it.

"I love you," he said, and his words hung soft amidst the stillness.

"Harry," Louis breathed. "You're more beautiful than I'd ever imagined."

"So are you," Harry smiled, reaching out. "Kiss me. Please."

Louis bit his lip, shrugging down all he had been about to say.

The last thing Harry wanted to do was pressure him, but he was throbbing with need. He could restrain it, be he couldn't keep it quiet. "Please, love." Seeing Louis hesitate, he took it back. "If you'd like. If you're ready."

"I love you," Louis said. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were red and pooling wet.

Harry pulled him in close, leaving a kiss on his forehead. Louis didn’t waste a beat after that. He seized Harry’s cheeks and brought their lips together, fervent and furious. It went to Harry’s head like an airborne toxin. He lost every other sense in his body to the feeling of prying lips. They kissed, and kissed, so much that Harry started to fear he’d suffocate, in such a sweet, scary way…

Louis pulled them apart, his eyes alive with urgency.

“What do you need?” Harry asked, speaking fast. “You hungry? Thirsty? You look exhausted, are you alright? Who’s after you? Tell me everything —”

Louis didn’t hesitate for a second. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and told him, “Do all of the things you said.”

Harry felt Louis’ shoulders tense in anticipation.

“W-what?”

“Please,” said Louis. “We may not have much time left together. I don’t know how much, but this could be our last —” He swallowed the doubt with his sentence. “We can’t have any regrets.”

“Why won’t you tell me what’s happening?” said Harry, overwhelmed. “I’ll do whatever you want, if you’re not in danger, but you’re acting like you are, and I —”

“I’ll be alright,” said Louis. His gaze wavered just the slightest, and Harry frowned.

“No. Really,” Louis said. “I’m safe here. You’re right.” Harry took a deep breath, untrusting of the newfound strength in Louis’ eyes.

“If it’s important, you have to tell me,” Harry insisted, stroking Louis’ sides to soothe out the edge in his voice.

“I don’t,” Louis muttered, so quickly and quietly that Harry almost missed it.

Harry opened his mouth to snap an answer back, then sighed. “No. I guess not. Unless it’s a threat to me. Or to both of us.”

“We’ll talk later,” Louis said, pressing his body against Harry’s, removing Harry’s defensive hands to place his own in Harry’s hair, to pull him down into a kiss —

Harry drew his lips back, still tingling from first contact. “After. After… _this_. Whatever we’re doing now, when it’s done…fuck. You _have_ to tell me.”

Louis gave it a heartbeat before promising, “I will.” He looked to Harry with saddened eyes, almost grieving. “But let’s not regret this. Please, Harry.”

And Harry was overcome with the thought of ever regretting whatever time they had left, if Louis was telling anything close to the truth, and so he surged forward, turning Louis around and pulling him over to press him against the wall. With a deep hum, he parted his lips against Louis’ neck. Louis, mouth left open from expecting a kiss, gasped, then whined as Harry brought his hips forward at the same time as he bit down. Louis curled his leg around Harry’s calf, and soon they were stumbling, intertwined, over to Harry’s bed. Louis pushed Harry down onto his back, leaving Harry agape in delirium, his curls haloed around him on the pillow.

Louis leaned down and braced his hands on either side of Harry’s shoulders, promptly slipping on a pair of pants and ruining his plans of crawling seductively up Harry’s body. He fell onto Harry with an _oomph_. Harry laughed, and Louis leaned down to cut him off, meanwhile scrambling until their crotches aligned, and he could start to thrust in little circles. Harry’s hands were quick to grab Louis’ ass and pull his jean-covered bulge in closer.

They chased pleasure like that for a while, grunting and gasping as they ground together, every touch of their groins less satisfying than the last. When Harry couldn’t take it anymore, he brought himself surging upwards, taking Louis’ face in his hands. Louis’ palms flew up in surrender. Harry shifted, briefly taking his hands’ from Louis’ cheeks in order to reposition him, seating him on his lap. From there, he hummed back into their restless kiss, wet and unrelenting. His hands went to Louis’ waist, squeezing his love handles before travelling up his back.

“You shit,” Louis said, smirking when Harry let him come up for air from their kiss. “Why aren’t you naked yet?”

Harry grinned, leaning in to take the collar of Louis’ baggy shirt in his teeth. He nipped his way down the buttons, until Louis snorted and gently pulled him back by the curls. “You’re not undoing the buttons with your teeth, you know.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Harry rolled his eyes before giving up, making speedy work of the buttons with one hand. “Your world has fashion all wrong.”

“Excuse _you_.” Louis tried to sound affronted, but Harry’s left hand had found a sensitive spot on his side, whilst his right hand was still busy unbuttoning. Louis squeaked, and Harry giggled.

“It’s a compliment,” he promised, finally whipping the front of the shirt open and sliding it off of Louis’ shoulders. He traced Louis’ collarbones with the tips of his fingers as Louis leaned in and caught him in a fervent kiss again. “It insults me,” he continued, between nibbles to Louis’ neck, “that they would put someone like you…” — nibble, peck, nibble, peck — “in such loose-fitting clothing.”

Louis looked into Harry’s eyes with a challenge. “If you hate the clothes so much, why am I still wearing trousers?”

It was a testament to Harry’s arousal that he barely spared any thought for the bizarre type of trousers he was soon throwing to his bedroom floor. By the time Louis was only wearing pants, Harry was more than done looking at garments — Louis was tenting the fabric like crazy, and that was all that mattered.

Louis had him pinned on his back again in no time. Harry raised his arms and let Louis slip his shirt off over his head. Louis let his eyes linger on Harry’s fledgling abs, stroking his hands up and down the lines of muscle.

“All for you, love,” Harry promised.

“Don’t be daft,” Louis smirked. “Two weeks of working out doesn’t get you _those_.”

“Subconsciously, it was all for you,” Harry smiled, sheepish. “Before I met you, I missed you really bad...”

Louis leaned in and pressed his mouth to Harry’s nipple, and Harry shut up, shuddering as Louis rolled it and flicked it between his teeth and tongue. “ _Lou_ ,” he gasped.

Louis took a second nipple between his fingers. Harry bit down on his lip and groaned in the back of his throat. His hand began to travel south, down to where he was still fully trousered.

Louis felt the motion and shifted his focus towards undoing Harry’s fly. He rolled his eyes at Harry’s Spiderman pants, but made short work of the trousers anyway, wriggling them off of Harry’s giraffe legs.

When he was done, Harry turned them over onto their sides, took Louis’ face in his hands again, and kissed him, deep and filthy, while he entwined their legs. He slid his thigh in between Louis’ until it met Louis’ groin. Louis hummed, throwing his hands around Harry’s neck to pull them closer together. They rutted together, friction all at once too much and not enough, enjoying each other’s gasps into each other’s mouths. With one thrust, Louis’ eyes fluttered closed, and he made the prettiest moan Harry could have ever imagined. He grabbed Louis’ thighs, sliding one underneath him so they could wrap around his waist, and pulled Louis in closer by the bum. Louis rejoined their mouths, and they made out like that for a moment. Harry could barely contain the joy he felt from cradling Louis in his arms, feeling him hot and wet and hard and close; so close it hurt to think that they would ever leave this position for the rest of their lives.

But they did, only seconds later. “You said you’d…” Louis shivered just thinking about it. “Take me down your throat.”

Harry stalled his hands and nodded. “Alright. Yeah. Um, let’s…”

Louis unhooked his arms from around Harry’s neck and laid back down. Harry slid their legs apart as he made his way down Louis’ body, kissing his gorgeous collar and his little nipples and his swell of tummy. He took Louis’ pants down, letting his flushed, fully hard cock bob free.

And fuck, was he ever ready to keep his promise.

 

 

 

Louis’ grip on the headboard turned his knuckles white, a red flush working its way down his back. Harry placed his hands on Louis’ hips again, holding tight enough to leave prints as he fucked into him harder. Louis’ breath caught before he let out a long whine, giving way to shorter uh-uh-uhs as Harry kept on, relentless.

“A-again!” Louis panted, words barely forming between moans.

“What?” asked Harry, high and weak as he slammed into Louis again, every sensitive spot in his body feeling on fire, as if it were all being touched at once.

“Tell me a-again,” Louis begged, grinding back as best he could to meet Harry’s thrusts.

It took Harry a moment to think properly enough to remember what Louis wanted to hear, surrounded as he was by Louis’ heat, and their sweat, and the filthy-slick sounds of their fucking. Harry moved a hand down to grip Louis’ cock instead, to distract him, and Louis cried out, then moaned into the pressure. He clenched, and Harry gasped.

“S-so _tight_ ,” Harry breathed. That made Louis move, thrusting as best he could into Harry’s fist.

“Again,” Louis pleaded. Harry grinned. _That_ was it.

“So tight for me, _ah_ , baby,” said Harry, trying to pick up the pace.

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis whined, high in his throat. Harry jerked him along with his thrusts, precome starting to coat his hand.

“ _Harder_ ,” Louis didn’t beg so much as he demanded, and Harry was all too happy to oblige, quite taken with how Louis, bent over and taking Harry as he was, still took complete charge.

Louis shuddered, empty gasps rattling out before he managed to say, “Harder. Gonna...gonna come.”

And trust Harry to talk like this in the heat of passion, to say something so broken and naive and wonderful and maybe rushed and maybe foolish…

“I love you,” he moaned.

Louis clenched tighter, thrust harder. Harry focused on jerking him in his now slick hand, hard and fast until Louis’ grip on the headboard tightened, his thrusts quickened and lost control, his hole clenched far tighter than before, and he cried out, shaking, spilling into Harry’s fist. Harry felt his knees about to give out, his whole body tensing as reckless pleasure built up and started to wrack him, waiting for release…

“Pull out,” Louis panted, voice wrecked, barely over his orgasm.

Harry’s head was hazy. It took him a second to respond, and pulling out was easier said than done, but once he had, Louis threw him to his back on the bed again. Hurriedly positioning himself between Harry’s legs, he gripped the base of his cock in one hand, and took the tip into his mouth. Harry clenched his fists in the sheets. Louis started bobbing his head, swirling his tongue around the tip. He pulled back to tongue at Harry’s slit, lapping up beads of precome. Harry placed a hand in Louis’ hair, pulling him in closer, always closer. Louis swallowed around him, leaning in and taking him in further, further. Harry didn’t want to come, needed to savour this longer, especially if this would be the last time he’d get to feel this way, but Louis had barely begun bobbing his head again when Harry gave an “ _Ah!_ ”

Louis pulled back in time for Harry to spill across his face. Beads of come caught on his lashes, painted his lips, even rested on the sweet tip of his nose. Harry lay frozen in admiration for a good long time, before Louis shimmied up the bed to meet him in a long, dirty kiss.

“Ew!” Harry squeaked, swiping his own come from his face as Louis finally let him breathe. Louis threw his head back and cackled. Harry made an unimpressed face at the stickiness on his hand that he really didn’t want to wipe on his sheets or on his nearby Spiderman pants.

“Better clean up then, eh?” Harry sighed, as Louis lay down next to him. “You stay put, you piece of work, you. And hope mum doesn’t catch me on the way to the toilet!”

 

 

 

Harry lay in a daze, head against Louis' heart, for minutes stretching into eternity. He didn't dare even shift, not wanting to upset the sacred stillness. He had never wanted to protect someone with stillness before. Louis' gentle, hot breath against his temple was the only thing he would let disturb it.

Louis had fallen asleep a quite a while ago now, but Harry was still having trouble trying to understand what had just happened. He'd had sex before. It had been fun, and sneaky, what with the occasional after-thrill of being scared that someone had heard, as they were all in close quarters after curfew. But sex with Louis had made him feel like the blushing virgin he'd never been in the first place. Sex had been good before, but Harry had felt comfortable calling it highly overrated. This had been so good in so many ways he'd never expected and couldn't have ever known. He mulled it over in his head, trying to isolate and replay sensations. It all blurred together in a mesh of all the most glorious and scary feelings he'd never known existed.

It was enough to quell the fear of tomorrow.

 

 

 

Harry was up at the crack of dawn, trying to navigate the kitchen by touch in order to steal some fixings for breakfast. When he returned, taking Marie’s bag of scones, some napkins, a knife, and a jar of jam from the pouch of his hoodie, Louis was sitting bolt upright in bed. He was clutching something to his chest, with a faint smile and an electric glimmer fading from his eyes.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

Louis smirked and began to read from the notebook he was holding. “ _Friday, June 28. Super-Spy Notes…_ ”

Harry ran over and tried to snatch it back. After a fair struggle, he wrestled it away from Louis and placed it back on the windowsill. “That’s enough of that. I thought we were going to talk about important stuff this morning. Not my childhood diary.”

“Writing things down is important,” Louis said, solemn. “It has power, where I come from.”

“There’s a lot more I still have to learn about where you come from,” Harry replied, rather pointedly.

He cast a glance over to Louis. His smirk was gone, his expression vacant in the grey light of morning. As if he was steeling himself for what was to come. Harry didn’t wish to avoid it, but he still wanted to savour the last moments of happiness before they had to have a serious talk. He laid their food out on his dresser and crawled back into bed. Louis’ body curled into a big spoon around his, and Harry pulled up the sheets and let them lay like that for a while, sheltered in each other’s warmth as the world began to stir around them.

As soon as they could hear Harry’s mum and sister clattering around the kitchen, Harry rolled out from under Louis’ embrace. Louis hummed in protest, but stopped as soon as Harry was sitting him up against the headboard with a pillow behind his back, and feeding him scones with jam.

Harry jumped back into bed beside him with a scone of his own, both of them carelessly crumbing down their fronts and onto the sheets.

“After we eat, we’re going to have the talk, right?” Harry asked. When Louis said nothing, Harry grinned, “And not the birds and the bees one. Been there, done that.” Louis didn’t even look his way, so Harry planted a peck on his check. That made Louis turn, fixing him with darkened eyes. With that look, all of the fear Harry had been forcing down bubbled up anew.

Louis' lips stiffened. His expression was so odd and waxen, as uncomfortably inhuman as a human face could make itself look. Harry tried to ask him _why_ with his eyes. Why he looked like what he was about to say was too painful for words. Why he hadn’t said a word since he’d woken up.

Louis turned back to his scone and finished his last morsels, wiping the crumbs from his chin with a napkin. He took a deep breath, looking shaken for a second before his expression steeled again.

He took another deep breath, and began.

"The people in my town aren’t bad people, Harry. But we're scared."

It took a thoroughly confused, saddened look from Harry to make him explain.

"My people are ruled by these...by the Goddess, you'll never believe me...these ancient creatures. Sometimes there’s three of them, other times they appear as just one. They're fucking asshats."

Harry popped a nervous dimple.

"And..." Louis gulped. "To keep them happy, we make sacrifices."

No more dimple. "What kind of sacrifices?" Harry murmured.

Harry was ready to hear of starvation and labour camps — maybe Louis had been held prisoner against the fence, waiting out the rest of his short life, destined for sacrifice. The very idea had Harry hot with rage.

"They only eat people," Louis said faintly.

Harry's mind itself seemed to stutter.

"Louis...what do you mean?"

Denial ran endless tiny circles, making a sickening web out of this new information that made no sense to him; he refused to let it make sense. It couldn't.

Louis' face was twisted and clenched and burning red. "I'm a catcher, Harry. My job is to...find sacrifices. I'm their slave, and I'm...I’m awful. I do _awful_ things —"

"No, you don't," Harry insisted, grabbing Louis by the shoulders. "You were my only friend when I was out there alone, lost and scared and —"

"Because I was luring you in, Harry!" Louis yelled, shaking, eyes red and streaming.

Harry gently shook his head, so Louis drove the truth home.

"I was going to have you killed, Harry. That was my job."

It was as if every little part of him had fallen out of place. Harry tried to direct all of his fear, all of his anger and unease straight at Louis — but Louis' eyes were pleading. It didn't work.

"But you weren't actually going to, right?" Harry's voice was so heightened, broken, pleading. "You were going to, and then you met me?"

Louis looked down, swallowing. "I had a job, Harry," he said, meek. "That's what I...what I had to do."

"But you wouldn't!"

"I became your friend, Harry. And I started to question everything. My duty to my family, to my town, to my honour...and then I fell in love with you."

Harry began to scramble out of bed. Louis’ words quickened, now coming out in between sobs. “And that first night, I was worried for you, I wanted to keep you safe from me, so I made you see that image of exactly what you thought was coming for you, that werewolf...to scare you from ever coming back...but you came back, and I couldn’t help but talk to you...and, and I lied, about our world, because that’s what I’ve been taught to do, but I —”

Now standing, looking down at Louis, Harry scowled. "How do I know you're not still lying to me?" he seethed.

Louis froze, mouth hung open. He tried to blink away tears, but a new well of them came. He looked back up at Harry with a look of complete defeat.

"Get out," Harry spat. "Get back to your stupid fucking magic world, and never come back here, you hear me?"

Louis shook his head. "No, Harry, I can't! Please, just listen to me —"

"You've said all you need to say. Now get out, or I'm calling the Inspectors."

"Harry, NO! I've made a huge mistake, and it's dangerous, and you can't —"

"Oh, _now_ you think you've gone and made a mistake!" Harry laughed mirthlessly. "When you've already gone and murdered kids from my town — haven't you? I'll bet you kidnapped Lester, the boy from my school, and stood by, and watched your goddamn monsters eat him!"

"Harry, the fence is gone," Louis yelled, sobbing. "I broke it, I fucking broke it, I was trying to get away from the damn monster and I —"

"Then get the fuck out and go fix it!” Harry thundered. “Whatever the hell it takes for me to never see you again."

"I can't," Louis sobbed, breathless. "I — they're coming.They want their sacrifice and I wouldn't give it to them, so they're coming for both of us —"

"Then leave, for God's sake!" Harry screamed. "Go pay for what you've done! Let them eat you, for all I care! Keep me out of your shit!"

"I can't, Harry. Please," Louis begged, "you'll never stand a chance on your own. If I leave, they'll still kill us both."

Harry threw up his hands and huffed, his outward exasperation nothing compared to his broiling insides. Confusion, and hurt, and anger, and terror. He felt like, at any moment, he would burst out of his own skin, roaring in pain.

“Fine. Then what now?” Harry yelled at Louis with all his force. “What the _fuck_ now?”

Slowly, Louis got up the strength to stand. Harry managed to hold himself back, prevent himself from breaking Louis’ bones as the other boy opened his mouth to speak.

“It will come here. It...it knows where we are. I can’t stop that.” Louis was trembling so hard it could have shaken the whole house. “But when it comes, I’ll protect this house with my magic. I’ll meet the…the monster — outside, and I’ll…” He opened his mouth to speak again a good few times before he managed to say, “I’ll fight it.”

Harry scoffed. “With your little fucking fireworks? You said this thing is a _god!_ More than one of them, combined!”

“It’s the only option we have, Harry!” Louis growled, rising to his feet. “None of my people would dare cross these things, so you better count yourself lucky that I’m going to fight _gods_ for you —”

“For me?” said Harry. “For me, like you conjured a beast of my nightmares for me? Just like you almost fed me to a Beast in the first place for _my_ sake, eh?!”

The door was flung open. Harry heard his mother’s roar before he saw her. “What in the _world_ is going on here?”

Harry wished he could retreat into himself, shrink into a tiny ball of nothing so he didn’t have to confront his mother’s burning eyes and clenched fists. Or explain why he was fighting with a naked boy in his bedroom in the early hours of the morning. Or explain why a godly being was on its way to kill them.

The renewed magical twinkle in Louis’ eyes definitely wasn’t helping things.

“I can explain,” Harry said, at the same time as Anne demanded, “When did the wall come down?”

It took Harry a moment to realize that her question had been directed at Louis. Her eyes were darting between Louis’ eyes and the pile of his odd clothes at the end of Harry’s bed, as if they recalled something for her.

“Just now,” Louis answered, in the tiniest voice possible.

Harry turned to glare at his mum. “You know? About the fence?”

Anne took a deep breath in, steadying her stance. “Apparently my son does, too.”

Harry was livid. “So _that’s_ what you’ve been keeping us from? No fucking Beasts, no fucking creatures — not here, at least — just a stupid fucking fence keeping the magic people from eating us alive —”

“We are _not_ cannibals!” Louis blasted.

“You would have learned, in time,” Anne scolded Harry. “It’s far too complicated for children to know.” Her brow furrowed in shame. “I should never have let you go through with your bloody research experiments, you’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong your whole life!”

“Yeah, I have!” Harry snapped back. “I’ve also been sneaking out to see _him_ —” He stared daggers at Louis, “— every night, alright? I’ll confess everything later, like a Good Kid, but right now we’re in danger.”

Anne looked back to Louis. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a monster loose, from my world,” Louis said, “coming for us. I’m going to stave it off —”

“You and what army?” Anne demanded.

“Army of three. Me, myself and I.”

Anne was taken aback, but she didn’t try to dissuade him. “How will you find it?”

“It’s on its way, don’t worry,” said Louis flatly.

“I have to worry, about my family and my community,” said Anne. “So if what you’re telling me is that I need to prepare my community for a potential attack, and speak to our authorities, I will do so immediately.”

Louis nodded. “That would be best.”

Anne took a second to collect herself before pointing a stern finger at both of them. “You’re not to leave this house until I’m back, alright?”

Harry and Louis nodded. Anne ran from the room, and the two boys fell into silence.

They heard the front door open, and the sound of a throng people poured into their quiet before the door slammed shut. Harry never heard that sound on any ordinary day, in their calmest, most boring of neighbourhoods. Something had to be going wrong.

He ran for his mother’s room. Louis followed. When he reached her window, facing into the street, he saw a crowd of oddly dressed people in the street below.

“Shit, they must have tracked me this far,” said Louis, once he’d caught up. “They’ll only give our location away.”

“Go tell them, then,” said Harry. He was shaking, feeling so _off_ by Louis’ side, where only mere minutes ago, it had felt so right.

Louis didn’t speak. They watched the crowd jostle and yell beneath them, unable to catch a single clear word they were yelling amidst the overall hubbub.

“They won’t let me face our monster alone,” Louis finally said. “That’s why they’re here. But I have to.” He turned away.

Harry reached for Louis’ wrist, tugging him back to the window ledge. “No. You don’t.”

Louis’ eyes were numb and unfocused. “None of them tried to kill you, Harry.”

“None of you wanted me to die. Not a _single_ one.” Harry stared deep into Louis’ eyes, still holding tight to his wrist.

Louis averted his gaze. He tore away from Harry’s grip. “I’m doing this alone.” He left the room without waiting for Harry to follow.

“So what,” Harry called after him, “you’re just going to stand outside, waiting for your god to come and _smite_ you?”

There was no answer. Harry cursed under his breath and jumped up to go after him.

He found Louis with his back against Harry’s door, fidgeting with the doorknob in one hand. Louis looked up with a start, as if he’d been caught committing a crime.

“You’re going to fight them alone? You realize this is no less mad than it was earlier, don’t you?” Louis’ eyes went from shock to fury as Harry spoke. “Now you have a whole flood outside who’ve come to protect you. You have a shot! You have to take it!”

“A chance I’ll kill all of them, too! That what I should do, eh?” Louis spat. “Become a _real_ murderer? Earn my stripes?”

Harry clenched his fists to try to stop himself from trembling, though it felt inevitable, at this point, that he would tremble for the rest of his life. In a still-trembling voice, he asked, “ _Why_ are you doing this?”

Louis’ eyes softened. The held each other's gazes for a while. It was the only answer he would get. And while it wasn’t much, Harry knew the real answer, as well as if he could hear it from Louis’ lips, loud and clear.

 

 

 

Given Anne’s threat, they walked silently down to the kitchen and waited for her to return. Tension hung thick in the air. Neither of them could relax enough to even sit.

Harry focused on breathing, carrying on from one moment to the next, breath by breath. He kept his attention away from Louis, away from emotion, away from hurt. He had never thought he would ever be lonelier than he had been in those weeks without Louis, but now — standing right next to him, yet apart from him — he felt lonelier than ever.

With a deep breath, he found himself reaching out only the slightest bit — sure that if Louis took notice, he’d reach back, and they would hold hands; but if Louis didn’t notice the unnoticeable, they would just carry on standing, and maybe that was best.

And he hated it. Hated it more than anything. What did it say about Harry, and what kind of person he was? What did it say that his heart was still bending over backwards to feel warm about Louis, to wish him kindness, to care about him, to _love_ him?

Harry was still gone for a murderer and a liar.

Before Louis even had a chance to react, Anne came barging in, looking straight to Louis. “There’s a crowd of people at the front door now,” she said, a little out of breath. “They’re all dressed in that way you are, and they’re saying that my house is ‘marked.’”

Louis nodded stiffly.

“They yours?” Anne snapped, gesturing impatiently.

Louis nodded again. Harry stiffened, knowing that under any other circumstance, his response would have been sharper. _“Well I don’t own them, per se…”_

After a second of trying to keep her glower, Anne’s anger faded from her face. “I’ll leave you to speak to them, then,” she said to Louis. “You just tell me how the rest of us are supposed to stay safe in all of this, and what I need to tell our Inspectors.”

“Stay in the house,” said Louis.

“ _Now?_ ”

“By dusk. You can tell the Inspectors that it won’t be safe by dusk.”

“How do you know?” asked Harry.

“It’ll be most powerful at night. That’s when it shows itself.”

“That’ll be after curfew anyway,” said Anne. “Everyone will be indoors.”

“Good,” said Louis. “I’ll go take care of the people outside.”

Harry watched Louis go, swallowing all of the questions he felt so desperate to ask but that Louis would never listen to — mostly _why_.

Why was he doing this? Why for _Harry?_

When Louis was gone, his mum fixed him with the sternest of all mum looks.

“I don’t care what happens tomorrow,” she said, “but if the both of us are still alive by then…”

“We will be,” Harry assured, not sounding sure at all.

“Then you’re telling me _everything_ you did. And you’ll be grounded.”

Harry nodded. With any luck, he’d be grounded soon.

 

 

 

Louis ate dinner with them as the sun set. It was the quietest meal Harry had ever observed.

Gemma was trying very hard to restrain her highly confused looks, especially as no one was in the mood for explaining anything. All of her questions trailed off into silence.

When they had finished, Harry still felt as empty as he had before eating — now almost painfully so. He cast a glance out at the sinking sun. Nothing unusual stirred out on the fields as of yet. It was as if they still had time.

Anne had spoken to Louis privately. She knew the drill. “Both of you,” she said, looking between her children, “to your rooms. You’re not to leave until morning.”

Gemma made a face. “What the hell, mum…”

“You heard me.” Anne offered no smiles or reassurance. “Take whatever you need from down here, but in five minutes, I need you in your rooms.”

“Mum, I’m an adult!”

“I’ll be in my room, too,” Anne shrugged, all too casually. “You can stay with me in mine, if you like.”

“Thanks, but did you hear the part about me being an adult?”

Harry looked to Louis, who only nodded.

“Don’t tell me _you’re_ telling me to go to my room, too,” Harry snapped at him.

“ _Harry..._ ” Anne warned.

Louis fixed him with the same big, scared eyes he’d seen the night before, with all the same guilt and regret and sadness he’d seen this morning.

“Well, I’m making myself a cuppa…” Anne declared, moving over to the stove.

Gemma retreated to her room with a book almost immediately. Anne took her tea upstairs a few minutes later, calling down a sharp “Two minutes!” to Harry.

Harry turned back to Louis. They were both stood awkwardly around the table.

“I don’t know what’s weirder,” Harry said into the silence. “The fact that you want to singlehandedly fight this thing, or the fact that you’re in cahoots with my mum.”

Louis didn’t laugh. He avoided Harry’s eyes.

Harry took a few bananas from the bowl on the kitchen counter and stuffed them into his pockets. He turned back to Louis, who was still speechless. Still watching the ground.

“Well, if you have nothing more to say to me, and you’re still about to do something so _fucking_ stupid —”

“Harry…” said Louis, his voice tiny and hurt.

Harry narrowed his eyes, hesitating, before prompting, “Yes?”

“I don’t want to end like this.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Did you actually think I was going to let you do this?”

“Harry —”

“You’re not going out there. Not on my watch.”

“If I don’t, it will find its way in! Trust me. You won’t be safe. It knows how to track you. It wants you. I have to cast enchantments on the house.”

“But you can do that from inside, can’t you?”

“Fuck’s sake, Harry!” Louis gave him a weary look, as if he had lived a lifetime in the past day. “I have to confront it.”

“So what did you mean, then?” Harry demanded to know. “When you said you don’t want to end like this, ‘cause you clearly _do_ want to end like this, you want to _die_ —”

“I don’t want _us_ to end like this…” Louis said softly. “But I guess I’ve already fucked that up for myself. It’s unfair to ask you to pretend you love me when I’ve gone and told you the truth…”

“Louis…” Harry began. Louis didn’t respond, so Harry took a step forward, and reached out to him with both of his hands.

After a second to think, Louis placed his hands in Harry’s. Harry looked him right in the eye, and fought back his anger and his hurt to find the strength to say, “I forgive you.”

Louis looked down. After a still moment, Harry saw a tear hit the white tiles beneath them.

“Hey,” Harry said. “Lou. Look at me.”

Louis looked up, looking like he’d lived yet another extra lifetime of strain and sadness in between their last shared look and this. His eyes were red, and he shook as he sniffled. Harry took Louis’ cheeks in both of his hands and kissed him. Just deep enough for it not to be an ordinary kiss, but not prying. Louis kissed back, and it was just as worthy a last kiss as any they’d shared before.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Harry said, then sighed. He had to let go. It was Louis’ turn to tell him what he needed to do. Harry had to help him, in whatever way Louis wanted.

“What do you need from me?”

Louis managed the faintest of smiles as he gripped Harry’s hands tight and said, “Go to your room, young man.”

Harry cracked a weak half-smile, but couldn’t hold on to it for long. “Is that really what you want?”

Louis nodded.

With everything seeming to break inside of him at once, Harry couldn’t bring himself to say a proper goodbye.

“Harry!” his mum bellowed from upstairs. “Up here, now!”

He turned and dashed up the stairs, telling himself that it was what Louis wanted. He couldn’t look back. Couldn’t kiss Louis once more, or else he’d be there all night, kissing and begging him not to leave, kissing him even with an almighty monster at his door, kissing until the house caved in.

He entered his room, slammed the door, and cried harder than he ever had before.

 

 

 

Ten minutes into solitary confinement and chill, just as dusk was truly falling, there was a knock on his door.

Harry startled, ready for it to be Louis saying that the beast had gone and fucked off somewhere else and they were all safe anyway. He was at the door in a heartbeat, yanking it open —

He paused, not sure how to react to who had appeared instead.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, mate," Liam said.

"Who sent you?" Harry demanded.

"Your mum, of course," Niall scoffed, eyes softening in sympathy as Harry's face showed scorn.

"Don't look like that," Liam frowned. "She wanted us to keep you company. Didn't want you to go through this on your own."

“Did she tell you everything?”

“Somewhat,” Niall shrugged. “We’re still fucking confused, but that’s no matter. We’re here for support.”

“Yeah, like who the hell is this magician kid —”

“When did you get back?” Harry interrupted Liam. “I haven’t seen you in —”

“Got back a week ago — which you’d know, if you ever checked your bloody texts,” said Liam.

“Touché,” Harry conceded, still sniffling.

He turned away from the door and settled himself back at the window. Niall followed, pulling himself up a cushion next to him.

"And she told us to keep you away from the window..." Liam mumbled, having already given up. He sat down on Harry's other side, studying his face for a second before following his eyes and looking out into the yard.

Harry heard the crinkles and clunks of crisp bags and plastic bottles being set down on the floor behind them. He appreciated the gesture, but made no move to touch them. He didn't need movie snacks to turn looking out for Louis, and act of fear and love, into an act of spectatorship. Luckily, his friends didn’t bother him. Niall ate most of the crisps himself in record time, which was just fine.

As night fell, Louis appeared in the yard. The flood of people from earlier encircled the house with him. He turned to face Harry’s window and spread his fingers up at the house. The people with him did the same. Harry tried desperately to meet his eyes, but Louis was resolute, waving his hands until the house was at the centre of a dome of fire-coloured rings, glowing into the night. Liam and Niall ooed and awwed at the electric hum they made, at the fizzle and pop of the multi-coloured sparks they emitted, the crackle of the flames that rippled along them. Harry barely noticed any sounds to be heard. Even amongst the crowd of other worlders, Louis occupied his full attention.

Once he was satisfied with his protections, Louis turned his gaze in the direction of the fence and waited.

The others followed his gaze, and, seeing something on the horizon, one by one, shrank away. Louis let them go.

Liam started chuckling to break the uncomfortable silence. "This is just like old times, eh? Staying up all night, looking out..."

Except this time, Harry thought, they were going to find out what The Beasts looked like. Once and for all.

Before darkness could fall, it seemed a storm was building to the north. Clouds gathered there in an unusual way, from the ground up. They bunched up like clusters of boulders, looking impermeable.

"Nasty looking storm," said Niall under his breath.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if those were Louis’ monsters all along. If they stayed hidden until night fell, when they could grow into looming masses in the sky.

Harry looked to Louis. His eyes were fixed on the horizon. The wind gathered and whipped up his hair. He took two shaky paces out further into the yard, then stopped. The clouds suddenly swelled, swirling smoke flowing furiously into bigger clouds. Louis hesitated, and then walked forward again, swinging his leg over the garden wall and wading into the fields.

Liam's tone was panicked when he spoke up again, though he kept his voice low, as if that would make anything better. "He's going to fight the _sky?_ " he squeaked. "That's what The Beasts are?"

Harry shook with disbelief. Louis couldn't be facing that alone, that inhuman thing taller than a mountain, a broiling storm of supernatural force. No amount of fiery sparks could pierce the hide of something so indomitable. He wouldn't charge this fight to a thousand magic-makers, let alone one very small one.

He was about to watch Louis die. Die, to keep _Harry_ safe. The glass casket of denial he’d built around himself came crashing down on him in tiny shards. There was no way he could have ever prepared for this.

"I have to stop him," Harry said, already standing up and turning towards the door in one strong motion. Niall and Liam reached out to hold him back, but Harry fought free, jumping out of their grips.

"Harry!" they both yelped as he closed in on the doorknob. He twisted, and it didn't budge.

There was no lock on his bedroom door, and yet the knob was completely jammed. He shook it with all his might, screaming at it as if his voice could shatter wood, but it stood fast.

Harry felt to his knees, banging against it with head and hands. Niall rushed to stop him just as he burst out into sobs.

"Did we agree to getting locked in here?" Niall called over his shoulder to Liam, leaning protectively over Harry.

Confusion joined the terror on Liam's face. "No?"

"It was Louis. I saw him earlier, playing with the doorknob. He..." Harry choked up. "He magicked it. He wanted to keep me safe."

"Bless him," Liam sighed, "you were about to charge out there and get killed yourself."

"I can't let him die like this!" Harry cried. It was all wrong. He no longer cared what Louis wanted from him. He had to make everything right.

"It's coming!" Liam yelled suddenly from the window.

Niall rushed over to see. Harry fought with himself over whether or not to turn around, whether or not he would ever be ready to see the true tormentors of his childhood, the rulers of another world, and the thing that was coming to crush his first love. How could he watch with his very own eyes? How could he do anything but turn away and cower and scream? Why had Louis trapped him here, with no choice but to drown in his own agony?

"Fuck," Niall breathed.

Now Harry's morbid curiosity and fear were both rising in him, swallowing him up — until fresh anger shot up, like a hot flame, to interrupt them. So Louis wanted him to stay stuck up in his bedroom, locked away from everything, hopeless and powerless? Fine. If the only thing Harry could do to stand with him was to sit by his window and watch, and cheer, and hope, Harry would do that.

That didn't make it easy to stand up from his place by the door. It didn't make it easy to sit down between Niall and Liam, take their hands and accept their hugs. Nothing was easy, with his stomach churning and his whole body so painfully alert, like a live wire. But, against every part of him that was screaming not to, he sat back down in front of the window.

He was greeted by a surge of regret.

A coal-coloured beast, about the size of the house, was crawling on all fours towards them. Its mouth hung open, and its eyes were fiery pits — not numb or void, but full of intent.

As it drew closer, it grew louder. Its footfalls rattled the glass in Harry’s window. It growled and hissed, deep and infernal. Liam and Niall huddled in closer, but Harry no longer felt any warmth.

Louis stood his ground. The wind grew stronger around him, and like the old beech on the creek, the wind shook him, but he didn't budge. The Beast slowed its pace as it neared Louis. It stopped in front of him, one massive footstep away, and crouched, looking straight into Louis' eyes.

There was a long pause. A staring contest seemed to be step one of vanquishing your enemies, if this battle was anything to go by. Harry, Niall, and Liam were silent in awe as Louis stared down the monster, which stood there eerily still.

The frozen moment went on like that for a span of time that seemed impossibly long, until the Beast seemed to loosen its jaw. Harry waited barely a heartbeat before a stream of black flames, flowing like water, tumbled out of the Beast’s mouth, engulfing Louis. Smoke and flame licked up the walls of the protective enchantments around the house until they could barely see, and Harry screamed. And screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

How else had he pictured this would go? Where had that tiny beacon of hope inside of him come from? How had it lasted so long, to only _now_ be ripped to shreds?

Niall and Liam held him tight from either side as the flames poured higher and higher. There were no sounds of screaming. Harry took that to mean the worst. He was too scared and stunned to cry anymore.

The smoke retreated first, and then the last flames slowly died. Harry looked away, not ready to face a heap of ashes that had once been someone he’d loved. He buried his face in the crook of Niall’s neck, and held onto both of his friends tighter, squeezing his eyes tight, as if closing them could wash away all the magic, all the illusions, all the horrors from his reality.

He was jostled when Niall yelled, “HOLY SHIT!”

“Harry!” Liam slapped him on the leg repeatedly until he perked up. “Your boy’s alive! Look, look, look!”

Harry pressed his nose to the glass to see a sooty figure, hunched over, still standing in the exact same spot he’d just been.

Harry gave the shrillest whoop of delight he’d ever heard, but it ended quickly when the beast started creeping closer. It leaned back on its hind legs, like a kitten gearing up to play. Momentary joy flickered out all too fast, leaving truths and fears alone in Harry’s head with the quietest new spring of hope.

Louis feinted right, and the Beast wasn't tricked. It snarled, bearing a large inhuman smirk as it advanced. Harry cowered in Niall and Liam's arms, away from the massive, monstrous face, inset with all-knowing eyes. It reared, revealing a third eye in the middle of its stormy belly — a bright violet opening.

Louis ran for it, but the Beast was quicker, knocking him onto his back. Louis was right about to recover when the Beast lashed out, picking him up by his foot.

Harry turned away, a scream dying in his throat. Niall and Liam hugged him tighter, but they were trembling, too.

In trying to train his gaze to the floor, Harry's eyes landed on the notebook on the windowsill.

It was then that the dumbest, most desperate thought hit him.

Louis had said something about writing things down. _“It has power, where I come from.”_

He seized the notebook.

"What's going on?" said Niall, watching Harry fumble for a pen on the floor.

"What the hell do you mean, what's going on?" Liam yelled, still staring out the window.

Harry uncapped the first pen to meet his fingers. He flipped to a new page.

The rustle caught Liam’s attention. "Journaling? Right now?!" he snapped.

Niall told Liam off while Harry began to write.

 

_Super spy notes: July 1st_

_Louis is in my yard being tortured by a god_

_(P.S. The Beasts are real)_

 

Harry closed his eyes tight, and pictured what he wanted to see. He jotted it down. He tried to keep it simple, point-form, like a request to whatever power could be higher than the one in front of him.

 _The Beast is slowing down_.

Harry bit his lip as he watched the Beast curl Louis into its fist, hissing at him in some rhythmic pattern that could have been its language. As it opened its mouth, revealing an endless dark throat and a row of obsidian teeth, he shut his eyes tight and said it over and over in his head like a mantra. _The Beast is slowing down. The Beast is slowing down._

When he opened his eyes, his wish had come true in the worst way. The Beast’s claws were turning into tendrils of ash and smoke, lapping at Louis’ body, enveloping him as he sank towards the monster’s mouth.

Not bothering to reconsider his wild idea, Harry resolved to make a more specific request.

But what? What could possibly save Louis from a fate that was inches away?

He scribbled furiously, dodging the tears landing on his paper. _Louis’ slipping out of the Beast’s grip like smoke._

The Beast was savouring something on Louis’ face — Harry couldn’t see from behind him, couldn’t tell if it was panic, or defiance, or both. He looked away and scribbled again. _Louis’ slipping out, Louis’ slipping out, Louis’ free…_

Louis sank lower and lower into the Beast’s hold, engulfed by the odd semi-solid mass that was its flesh.

Harry threw down his pen and screamed, _“Louis’ getting free! Louis’ getting free! Louis’ getting free!”_

Niall and Liam tried to hold him down, but he jumped up, hands and face against the window. _"Free! Free! Free!”_

The Beast swung Louis’ clouded form closer to its mouth, — for a second, froze. Harry screamed and screamed, banging on the glass.

And then a small, light-coloured blob landed on the grass at its feet.

The Beast looked around, confused for a moment, before it cast its eyes down and snarled. It made to react, but as Louis charged under it, it moved more lethargically than before, staggering backwards.

Harry couldn’t believe it. _The Beast is slowing down._

What could Louis do next? The Beast wouldn’t be incapacitated for long, if at all. How could Louis win?

The next target seemed obvious. And as Harry watched, Louis seemed less about to run away and more about to make his next move.

The eye of the storm, under the Beast’s belly.

Harry snatched the notebook and pen back up and began to write.

“Harry, fuck your diary!” yelled Niall in his ear.

Harry kept writing.

“It’s the notebook from when we were kids,” said Liam.

“You think I care? Fuck it, Harry —”

_Louis’ sending red lightning up into the eye of the storm._

Niall tried to wrench the notebook away, but Harry was on his feet again before Niall could reach. He ran to the window. The Beast was changing form, as if back into a hurricane. Its snickering face dissolved. Harry could only barely see Louis planting his feet under the beast’s belly and throwing his hands up to the sky, but then the swirling cloud descended, whipping up the garden into a tornado. He saw some debris bounce harmlessly off of the house’s enchanted rings. Louis had cast his protections all too well.

Harry saw what looked like a spark piercing the storm, but no more than that. The cloud was lowering itself to the ground, about to sweep Louis up and surely kill him this time. And just like the notebook idea, this made no sense, and probably would only worsen their danger, but Harry was dead set this time. He needed to get out.

He turned to run, but Niall and Liam held him back this time.

“NO, Harry!” Liam begged.

Harry turned back to the window and raised the notebook again, writing, _My door is unlocked._

“Not your _fucking_ notebook again, you bastard idiot! Your boy out there is dying!” Niall managed to wrench it away from him this time. Harry used the distraction to run around Niall’s other side, dodging Liam’s hands. He fumbled with the doorknob, which still seemed locked. He yanked and kicked, and kept yanking and kicking when he felt Liam’s arms close around his waist, tugging him backwards. Harry concentrated, muttering “My door is unlocked, my door is unlocked…”

“You’re not casting a bloody spell, mate!” Liam reminded.

 _“My door is unlocked!”_  Harry yelled.

And then, with one last twist, the door clicked open.

Liam’s arms slackened from shock just enough for Harry to escape him and dart down the stairs.

He slid open the back door — the sickening click still loud against the sound of violent winds — and stepped out onto his deck. The air was burning hot. Harry looked up at the rings as they began to rotate, slicing down through the air and disappearing into the ground before slicing down from above again.

The rings moved faster and faster, too quickly for Harry to discern a pattern in order to work his way around them. His only path left became apparent.

He took a deep breath, then charged. A ring came down right in front of him, but he didn’t stop. He launched himself into the air, felt scorching heat against his skin, and then tumbled safely into the grass of the yard.

“ _Harry!_ ” Liam and Niall were calling to him from the doorway, faces panicked. “Harry, come back!”

“Stay back!” Harry commanded them. The rings sped up again, now almost blindingly fast, so Niall and Liam just stared. Good, Harry figured. At least they would be safe.

He turned back around. The cloud ahead was impenetrable. He couldn’t just charge at it this time.

“LOUIS!” he yelled, at the top of his lungs. “ _LOUIS!_ ”

Nothing changed. No answer. Charging seemed the only thing left to do.

Harry took a last deep breath and ran full force at the beast. The winds slowed him down, but he charged on. He dodged flying bricks and saplings and rocks. With the air full of dust and silt, he narrowed his nostrils and fought to breathe with every step.

Right as he was closing in on the grey mass —

Woom. In an instant, the winds were gone, and the charcoal Beast was back, its hungry fire-pit eyes leering down at Harry.

Harry stared up at it for a paralyzing moment, before his eyes found Louis. Stunned, still standing beneath the eye of the storm.

“LOUIS!” he cried.

His hesitation cost him. With a swipe, Harry was whisked up into the paw of the Beast. It squeezed and squeezed, and Harry could feel himself slowly suffocating. Every struggle made the almighty fist close tighter. The Beast growled with glee.

Harry heard a cold voice rattle through him, as if coming from inside his skull. _My promised one…_

The Beast let go of his torso, catching him instead by one arm. Harry dangled over its mouth, and was lowered down, down, down, towards those gnashing obsidian teeth.

Harry screamed, high in his throat. He was going to die for nothing. Louis would die right after him. It was all his fault, he should have stayed _fucking_ put —

There was a roar. Not a Beast’s roar, but a boy’s. Red-orange lightning lit up the sky, spearing right through the body of the Beast. It didn’t fade, only growing brighter and brighter.

Harry looked into the Beast’s eyes, expecting to see godly indifference, but saw anguish instead. It stumbled backwards, trying to run from the stab of the lightning. It couldn’t.

Harry felt the grip around him begin to dissolve. The arm holding him was crumbling, pieces blowing away in a new wind. He was right about to drop into the Beast’s mouth when it too started to cave in on itself.

The lightning spread like cracks over its body, veins of fire. It sank to its knees. The arm holding Harry disappeared. He fell, landing on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

Harry got back to his feet, gasping, as soon as he could. Standing behind him was Louis, still shooting a sun-bright rod of electricity from his fingertips. Harry’s heart swelled with admiration, until he saw the strain in Louis’ eyes. A lifetime’s worth of pain seemed to be churning behind them — all of the dread and the rage and the heartbreak and the agony he’d ever been given, all coming back to him in one moment.

The Beast roared its last, and Harry ran for Louis. He threw his arms around Louis’ waist, placed his head on Louis’ shoulder. In his ear, over the crackle of power and the moans of the Beast and the whip of the wind, he whispered, “Thank you.”

With a _zap_ , the tendrils of lightning shot back out of the sky, and all of the power Louis had released came surging back into his body. Holding onto him, Harry felt the blast secondhand. Louis cried out in anguish, flailed and spasmed.

“I’ve got you,” Harry muttered, his voice getting lost in Louis’ screams. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Louis finally collapsed into him, spent. Harry staggered back, grunting with strain as he lowered Louis down by his underarms, balancing Louis’ head on his belly. The Beast before them groaned and buckled once more, angry sparks flying from its body. It sank in on itself, crumpling, deflating, but Harry took no notice at all. Louis spluttered, and Harry laid him on his back, soothing him with his voice and his hands, pulling his head back gently to open his airway, like he'd been taught in first aid.

The Beast whined and gasped and dissolved as it died. Harry didn't notice. All he noticed was that Louis was struggling to breathe.

Harry cried Louis' name over and over, checked his vital signs back and forth relentlessly, and watched Louis fade, second by second.

The rain began, putting out the last embers of the beast. Harry positioned himself in a plank over Louis, sheltering his love with his body, as he begged Louis to wake up, begged Louis to listen, and begged and cried and begged and cried as Louis' eyelight twinkled out.

By the time Louis lost consciousness, Inspectors were pulling them apart. Harry screamed louder and wilder than he knew he could. They loaded Louis onto a stretcher. Harry panicked. They were treating him like a body, and he couldn't be a body. Harry tried to roar, but a shriek came out — and that was when one man covered his mouth with a dark cloth, and Harry smelled a noxious smell, and he lashed out, kicking for his life —

Everything went dark.

 

 

 

He woke up in his own bed, thankfully, and immediately sprang out of it to find his mother, begging to know where Louis was. His mum's eyes were rimmed red, with darkened bags, and she looked as if Harry's shouting could snap her in two. She put up her hands for peace.

"He's in the hospital. I'll take you."

She didn't even change out of her dressing gown to drive him into town. Once inside the hospital, other worlders were clogging up the corridors. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw some of them entertaining themselves by lighting up their palms different colours, or making tiny sparks fly. They all parted for him, giving him ample space in the corridor, all of them looking on with weary, inquisitive eyes.

There was a woman clothed in colourful robes to let him in at the door. Louis was lying in a bed against the far wall, hooked up to all of those machines that Harry didn't spare a glance for.

"He's in stable condition," the woman said softly, pulling up two chairs for herself and Harry at the bedside. Harry felt a gush of relief. Louis looked like a shadow of himself — burnt and battered, littered with bandaged wounds — but he was breathing. And that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Harry felt the woman's hand gently slip into his and squeeze. He looked up at her, and though she couldn't bring herself to smile, there was something grateful about her look. Grateful for what, Harry had no idea. But he nodded his thanks.

When they both turned back to Louis, Harry felt a warmth well up between himself and his unlikely companion. He turned to her and asked, "Are you Louis' mother?"

There were tears in her eyes. She nodded.

Harry looked down at their conjoined hands, and then back at the boy who had broken their worlds. The boy who had fought a god for Harry's life.

"Thank you," he said, "for all he's done for me."

She blinked away a tear. "You'll get to thank him," she said. "I promise."

 

 

 

They sat together all night, Louis' mother exchanging a word or two with the nurses and doctors who came in and out. Anne joined them later, forcing Harry to finally eat something. She and Louis' mum, who introduced herself as Jay, struck up a hushed conversation by the door, while Harry stayed at the bedside.

"How long do they think he'll take to recover?" Anne asked.

Jay sighed. "Too long. He suffered from a kind of exposure unique to people like us, I'm afraid. He used every ounce of life left in him to fight, quite literally. He won't get it back here."

"Will you take him home, then?"

Jay hummed, affirmative. "I'm our town healer. If we can get him well enough to bring back to our clinic, we can treat him there."

"Is crossing over safe, yet?"

"Yes. Though I wouldn't go telling your people that. We couldn't deal with the borders being flooded while we work out an agreement."

"Agreement?"

Troubled as his coma seemed, Louis also looked peaceful. Harry wondered if he knew what he'd started, or whether he was blissfully unaware that territories and sovereignties had to be renegotiated because of him, two different worlds had to speak to each other again because of him. Harry so badly wanted to hold his now-pale hand, but as if there was glass between them, he let the unwitting revolutionary be.

"Yes, there's much to be discussed, isn't there? Our relations need to be reworked, if that’s what we all want."

Anne sighed. "At least we can stop telling our children fairy stories."

Jay chuckled knowingly. "You should have seen Louis' face when I first told him what was over that fence. He always thought it was some sort of lion savanna when he was tiny."

There was a tense silence. Harry felt like an unwilling eavesdropper, so he tried narrow his focus to Louis' breath, making sure each followed the last.

"I hope we won't have to work too hard to negotiate peace," Anne said, with an edge to her words. "Rest assured, if your side survives by taking our children, we will have to remove ourselves from each other again."

"That's a burden we no longer have to bear," Jay reassured, her voice also gently biting. "We have our independence now. We are not inclined to violence by nature. We only did what we were forced to do."

The part of Harry that still feared Louis shook; but no more than the sight of him, pale and battered in that bed, was needed to remind him. Louis wouldn't have risked everything for a lie. That much Harry could believe.

"I believe you," said Anne, "but I have to remain cautious, for a while. For my children."

Jay sounded sad, but she nodded. "I can respect that."

 

 

 

On the third sleepless day, Jay deemed Louis stable enough to travel. The nurses and doctors tried to protest, but they were no match for the group of other worlders that filled up the hospital room.

Harry took a step back as they approached the end of Louis’ bed with a stretcher. Gentle hands slid him onto it. Harry held Louis' hand as the crowd carried him out of the room, silently quelching the protests of hospital staff.

Harry walked with them, back over the fields in the rain. They walked past the fallen branches of the old beech, no doubt trampled by the dead monster. They crossed the splintered section of the fence, and Harry felt its remains crack under his feet. No matter how much he was jostled for space, or pushed around as the procession continued on, he kept his hand around Louis' ankle. He hoped his touch could ground Louis to his life here, keep his soul from floating away. After all they'd been through, Harry couldn't bear that. He hoped his touch would be enough.

When Harry lifted his head on the other side of the fence, the sky was lighter. Night and day were bleeding together. The air crackled with a strange energy as two inconsolable worlds were united.

Jay led the procession into a small town, with the most charming houses Harry had ever seen. Decorative woodwork curled and twisted. A litany of bright colours exploded on the edges of his vision. He tuned it all out somehow, focusing on the connection he kept to Louis.

After a long walk down a central street, full of children playing with footballs and hula hoops, stopping to stare at the marches, or to run forward and greet someone they knew — they reached an open-air shelter. Under it were tables filled with tools, vials, different kinds of twigs. Potted plants on shelves decorated the perimeter. Louis was set down on a cot at the centre of all of the tables. Jay gave her thanks to the townspeople, who silently dispersed.

When all was quiet again, Jay turned to Harry with a soft smile.

"I wish you could stay," she said, "but the healing process doesn't do well with company."

Harry's heart fell, but he nodded, understanding.

Jay stroked a hand down his shoulder. "I'll tell you when he's awake. I'm sure you'll be the first he'll want to talk to."

Crestfallen, Harry stood, looking down at Louis' resting form. He looked much more at home in his mother's workshop than Harry had ever seen him — not that he'd been able to see him for long at all.

Harry sat himself on a knoll, a few minutes' walk from Jay’s clinic, and watched some children kick a ball around. He looked over the fields to the fence, the long grasses mirroring those back in his world. The wind ruffled his hair, tasting just like the wind in his world. And even though all was yet to be decided about the future of their worlds, and big people still had yet to talk about big things, and he had no idea when Louis would wake so that they could begin to mend the littler world between the two of them — but for the first time in a long time, Harry felt at peace.

The children put down their football and made a circle on the ground, each practising making sparks, each of a different colour. One of them eventually set the grass on fire — purple fire — and a parent had to rush in and put it out while they squealed. Harry smiled to himself. Somehow, everything would end as it ought to.

 

 

 

"I heard what mum was saying, you know," said Louis. Harry sat by his bedside, holding his hand. "You don't have to lie."

"I wasn't lying," Harry promised, "I was just trying to make the truth sound more hopeful."

Louis smiled. "You're too good to me."

Harry pecked him on the forehead. "You're far better to me. I'll be repaying you for the rest of my life, like it or not."

"Well, I'll make sure you like it," Louis said, grinning as best he could through the wounds still healing on his face. It faded quickly. "But I'm fucked."

"You're not!" Harry insisted. "You'll make a full —"

"Bullshit, Harold. I’ll be able to walk again, maybe, but not like before. And my bloody head’s been knocked around, right? Nice addition to all the new nightmares."

"Well..." No more sugar coating, Harry promised himself. "That’s not, um...a very easy thing to like.”

“You don’t say…”

“But I’ll be here for you, when you don't like it. And for all the other times."

Louis closed his eyes, and for a split second Harry feared he’d hit a nerve, but then he felt Louis' hand give his a light squeeze.

"Ever since I met you," Louis began, softly, "I've figured at some point, something would shake me, and it would all crack, you know? Everything that felt genuinely happy — too happy to be real — would just disappear at some point. And given the circumstances…you know — different worlds, different sides of a fence, all that — I knew it wouldn’t be all happy days. But like, you know...the feeling I get from being around you. It’s still there. I didn't feel it change, even when I was being crushed by a god, even when you found out the truth about me and you looked so...fuck."

Harry stroked Louis' arm. "It's alright."

"No it's not," said Louis. "It's really not, and I'll feel that pain for the rest of my life. And I'm afraid you might, too."

"Maybe," Harry allowed. "But things are changing."

Louis opened one eye, looking past Harry and out into the fields on the edge of town. Harry kept stroking his outstretched arm as he pondered. He'd barely been conscious in the past few days, but somehow he seemed to be ready to mull this all over, engage with the heavy realities that Harry would barely let his own mind touch. In his thoughtful eyes, Harry saw courage. Every single thing Louis did was born of his courage — at least, everything that mattered.

Louis looked up at Harry and held his gaze for a moment before smiling. At the corner of his eye that wasn't hidden by bandages across his temple, Harry saw the skin crinkle.

"Guess we ought to change too, then," he said, with the best shrug he could make, lying down and stitched up as he was.

Harry followed his gaze back out to the fields. Placing Louis' hand in both of his, Harry said, "Not really. I think we're good as we are."

Louis smiled. Harry kissed him on the forehead, and held his hand and stroked his arm until he fell asleep.

 

 

 

For a month or so, life in both worlds seemed to be in limbo. Town hall meetings were organized, to discuss the fate of the boundary between their worlds. The first few discussions were tense. Harry's worlders weren't always apt to trust people who had been kidnapping one of their children every six years and delivering them to awful fates, and Harry felt their pain to his very core. Louis' worlders insisted that they'd been trapped under the thumb of an authority that had been impossible to question. None of Harry's people could be sure that they weren't lying — even the sympathetic ones.

Louis was well enough to handle basic mobility after a few weeks, so Harry found himself begging at Louis' bedside, telling him to speak to those who wouldn't listen. They would listen to Louis, he was sure, even if they wouldn’t listen to anyone else. Still low on strength, Louis didn't feel ready, but as the situation escalated, Harry pleaded harder.

At what was supposed to be their last meeting, Jay stood up to speak, with her son at her side. His head was still thickly bandaged, and he looked like death on his feet, but Jay spoke loud enough for the fires in both of them.

“If any of you disbelieve the horrors of the regime we were under, one day, you should speak to my son,” she said, voice strong and clear. “He can tell you everything. Including the part where, in order to be accountable for his actions, he stood up to his own gods, for the love of one of yours.”

There were murmurs around. Harry felt eyes on him.

“Not all of our folk have the courage and fortitude of my son,” she continued, “and no one else will bear a burden like his for the rest of their futures. But we all share his goodness. And we ask to be your good neighbours as we lead far different, but conjoined lives.”

By the end of the testimonies and debates, Harry couldn’t tell quite which way opinion had swayed, but there was a new energy in the hall.

Louis looked ready to pass out as Jay guided him off of the stage. Harry ran to him, catching him in the gentlest hug he could pull off with all of the pride and gratitude welling in him.

“You were _brilliant_ ,” Harry said, glowing.

“I said nothing,” said Louis plainly. “And you think the sun shines out of my arse.”

Harry gave a sly smile. “I have proof.”

“Please…” Louis muttered. Louder, he said, “You know what I realized, just now?”

“What?” asked Harry.

“We haven’t been on our first date yet.”

Harry beamed, planting a kiss on Louis’ shoulder. “When you’re a bit better, yeah?”

Louis pouted. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Harry shook his head. “We’ll make something work. Now go rest up.”

Harry gave a nod to Jay and the two other caregivers who’d been helping Louis around, and they all made their way out of the hall.

There was a vote that night, which Harry was too young to take part in. He could barely sleep, hoping beyond hope that no wall would be built up between them again.

In the morning, he was greeted by coffee, scones, and his mum waving a piece of paper at him. Harry took the last steps three at a time, leaping off of the third. He couldn’t read his mum’s face, which scared him. His mum was rarely inscrutable when she didn’t have something to hide.

He took the paper in his hands, took a deep breath, and read the results of the vote.

Fifty-eight percent in favour of tearing down the fence and renegotiating relations. No one could stop the skies bleeding together, and no one could stop Louis and he from loving each other, but this would make it so much easier for them both. He heaved a sigh of relief.

“We’re signing up for takedown crew,” said Anne, as casually as though they were taking down the set after a school play.

“So I’m not grounded?”

Anne scoffed. “Of course not. Come on! You and me, dynamic duo, taking down the fence. Good enough excuse to get you out of babysitting?” Her eyebrows lifted as she smiled.

“Beyond good enough,” Harry beamed. He and his mum shared a long, warm hug, and danced around their sunny kitchen.

 

 

 

"Can you pass me the shovel there, darling?" Anne asked. "This one won't budge."

Harry nodded, instead planting the shovel by the base of the plank and starting to loosen the soil there himself.

"Oh, thanks, love," said Anne. When Harry had loosened it further, she pried it from the ground, and stacked on their woodpile.

Harry and Anne moved over to the next section of fence. Jay was already there, waving her arms to dispel the enchantments from it. She beamed at their arrival. The section she was working on immediately lost its lustre, and began to look like part of a painfully normal wooden fence.

"Thank you, Jay," smiled Anne. "Wouldn't dream of doing this without you."

"It's nothing, love," Jay reassured. "Though I was thinking of retiring for a nap soon, if that's alright. Still not used to our new time situation, what with night being day, and day being night, and even day and night don't seem to know which is which..."

"Neither do we," said Anne. "Nap time sounds like a plan. We can get a new crew out tomorrow."

"Brilliant," said Jay. Her hands lost their light, and she wiped them on her long sleeves. "But before I go, I remembered — I've something for Harry."

Harry perked up. It was probably just another tin of cookies, or baggies of the magic candy he'd grown to love so much — but he couldn't help but hope that whatever it was, it was from Louis.

"How is he?" Harry blurted out, and Jay chuckled.

"Harry, for the fifth time —" Anne began.

"Ta, love, how's about you look for yourself." Jay reached into the pocket of her long, flowing dress and pulled out a tiny envelope.

Harry took it from her, almost reverently, and turned it over in his hand.

"To: Hazdroid," it said, "Love, Lounicorn."

Inside, the simple card, hand-painted with red sparks, had only a simple message inside.

"Tomorrow night. Seven-thirty. Barbara's Cafe, Your Town."

Harry looked up to see his mum fondly raising an eyebrow. "And?"

Harry just chuckled, looking back down at the card.

Anne leaned over. Harry squeaked and tried to shoulder her away, but it was too late.

"Someone's got a proper date," she beamed.

Harry looked up at Jay, also beaming.

"Finally," said Harry under his breath. He tucked the card into his pocket. He'd put it on his windowsill that night, in the moonlight, facing out to the fence.

Jay caught him up in a hug. She and Anne exchanged bisous before parting ways, the sun beating down on their backs as they began the walk home.

"Well then," Anne sighed, smirking as she continued, "tomorrow. With Louis."

"Tomorrow. With Louis," Harry agreed.

"You make sure to be back by curfew!"

Harry laughed, squeezing his mother's hand. It was a joke, of course. Curfew had been lifted now, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm on [tumblr](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) if you wanna come say hi (I'd love that)! Also if you wanna share with your friends you can reblog [Lulu's most wonderful post!](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/152030740938/lululawrence-like-a-bullet-in-the-dark-30256) I would love that also!


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